XIII

Sam walked into the café, and was not at all surprised to see Mallory seated with a red-headed man in glasses who had to be Brandon Foxton. He walked over to join them. "I sense this lunch invitation comes with an ulterior motive," he said dryly.

"Sam, I have to tell you, if you couldn't have predicted that, you may be in the wrong job," Mallory said.

"Oh, no, I was definitely expecting something like this."

"Then why'd you agree to come?"

"I was hungry." He sat down, and extended a hand. "Sam Seaborn."

"Brandon Foxton." The rich, deep radio voice seemed oddly incongruous coming out of such a nondescript little man. The hearty handshake, however, matched the voice better than it did the appearance. "Mallory's told me all about you."

"Let me guess, she told you I was the weak link who could be pressured into arguing your case to Leo McGarry?"

Foxton cracked a smile. "Broadly, but she suggested I pretty it up with words like 'idealism'."

Sam grinned back, already warming to the man. "Mr. Foxton, I hope you appreciate that neither I nor the president - nor Leo McGarry, for that matter - has any issue with you personally or with your radio show. However, if you're seen attending the State of the Union so soon after causing a stir with your remarks about the Vice President, it has the potential to be very embarrassing for this administration."

Foxton leaned back in his chair. "Well, for a start, I wouldn't say I was 'stirring' anything. It was hardly an ad hominem attack on President Bartlet - or even John Hoynes. My intention was to generate discussion on integrity in politics, and I'm pretty damn sure we succeeded. We took responses from callers - not all of them were agreeing. It was a perfectly well balanced piece."

"Yeah, well, we hate those. They're so much nastier than partisan ranting and raving," Sam said dryly. "Seriously, as I say, we have no problem with the content of your show. However, the fact remains, in your radio program you put forth an argument calling for the Vice President to resign."

"To preserve the integrity of the office," he agreed.

"Which is a perfectly valid opinion, and nobody's trying to talk you out of it. However, you must appreciate that if you're seen at the State of the Union, it creates the impression that the president endorses your opinion, which leaves him open to some potentially very awkward questions."

"I do see your point," Foxton nodded.

"Thank you."

"But I don't grant it."

"Ah."

"I don't think it would look like that at all. I think it would look like the president was considering all points of view on the issue, instead of just shutting out the ones he disagrees with."

"The president does consider all points of view!" Sam burst, frustrated. "He just doesn't invite their vocal public proponents to a speech that focuses on setting out his agenda for the coming year, because if he does what they say he looks weak, and if he doesn't he looks indecisive!"

"I don't think it's a sign of weakness to listen to what the public wants," Foxton countered.

"The voice of the public and the voice of the media are not the same thing."

"The media follow the tide of public opinion."

"Well, so do we, so get in line!" Sam noticed that Mallory was sitting back and smirking. "I'm sorry, did you have something to add?" he wondered sardonically.

"No, not at all. I'm finding this perfectly fascinating. After all, debate is the lifeblood of democracy. Please, go right ahead."

He had an irritating feeling he was about to get suckered into making a case for Brandon Foxton to be allowed to come to the State of the Union.

"Hi, Charlie."

"Mr. President." His young aide was smiling suspiciously widely. Jed suspected he was entirely too amused by the thought of his boss being trapped for an hour with some militant women's group he couldn't even remember the name of.

The location seemed rather odd for that, actually. "We're eating in here?"

"Yes, sir. They're ready for you now."

Strange. He'd expected one of the bigger rooms... oh, Lord, what if it was only two or three people? There'd be no escaping awkward conversations. What idiot had slipped this onto his calendar? He couldd have sworn it was a last-minute addition.

"I don't suppose you know what this meeting is about?" he asked, a last- ditch effort.

"Oh, I think you'll find out pretty soon," said Charlie, still grinning.

Jed narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but walked in. The table was set for two, and the room was completely empty. He turned back in confusion. "Okay, what-?"

"Hey, babe."

He whirled again, and gaped at the vision in the doorway. "Abbey!"

She walked in with a smile, and draped her hands over his shoulders. "The one and only."

"What are you doing back?" he asked, able only to stare at her in wonder.

"I came home early." She leaned up to give him a light but heartfelt kiss. " Pleased to see me?"

The only possible response to that was another kiss in return.

A moment later she broke away from him and pulled him over to the table. "I cancelled your scheduled dinner. Rene's gonna do you a steak."

Jed was wide-eyed with amazement. "I can have steak?" His once-favourite meal was very high on the list of things that had been struck off his allowed diet on pain of, well, pain.

Abbey gave him a knowing smile. "Special occasion, babe."

He couldn't quite contain the grin beginning to spread across his features. "So you're saying this is the steak of the union?"

"Rene?" Abbey called. "Cancel the steak."

But she spoilt the effect by laughing, and before the chef could arrive to break up the mood he leaned forward to steal another kiss.

Suddenly, he was having a much better day.

"Hey, Leo."

He looked up and tugged off his glasses as his deputy appeared in the doorway. "Josh. What's up?"

Josh came in and pulled the door shut. "Got another call from Waterstone."

"He's threatening the bill?"

"He's threatening the bill."

Leo shook his head in exasperation. "I'll handle it." He made a quick note on the margin of the report he'd been reading before he forgot it. "But not yet; we'll let him stew over the weekend." It wouldn't do to let the crowd of mid-level Senators trying to push them around believe they were at all important.

"You're gonna slap him down with the Iowa thing?"

"Yeah. He's an idiot if he thinks we've forgotten the stranglehold we put on Kendrick and Bannister to pull his ass out of the fire."

Josh shook his head and sighed. "It's a total free-for-all, Leo. They know we're not strong, they know the president's approval ratings are swinging wildly... Every Democrat with half a degree of leverage thinks they can put the pressure us on to force out Hoynes."

"And every Democrat with half a degree of intelligence knows that if we force out Hoynes, we've got nobody." He rolled his eyes. "Pity we can count the number of those on the fingers of one hand." It was amazing how quickly the support of their own party could degenerate into backstabbing the minute the even wholly imagined whiff of personal gain was in the air. None of the available candidates could hope to make good on a presidential run in three years' time, but that didn't stop them jockeying for position to try it.

Josh leaned against the back of the chair in front of him. "They've got a point, Leo. His numbers-"

"Are immaterial when he's not gonna be running for another three years," Leo said briskly. "An admitted affair's a scandal, but it hasn't got the juice to run for years."

Josh gave him a solemn look. "You know it's not the only one," he said softly.

"Nobody on that list's a talker." A verbal list, naturally. There were some things you didn't even think about writing down, lest, as Toby put it, you tempt the wrath of the whatever from atop the thing.

"We think," Josh said pessimistically.

"None of them have come out of the woodwork yet. None of them came out of the woodwork five years ago, back when nobody in their right mind thought anybody was gonna steal the nomination from him. These women aren't publicity hounds, and if the press manage to dig one or two of them up, it's old news by then. He's already confessed."

Josh still looked uncertain, but let it slide. "What's going on with this spy plane?" he asked. Leo raised a cautioning hand.

"We're not sure it's a spy plane."

"But neither side's acknowledging its existence."

"No." He rubbed his forehead, and a random thought struck him. "Hey, you sent the Bowers kid home?"

"Yeah. I've spoken to Nancy, we might be able to squeeze him in again tomorrow morning."

Leo raised his eyebrows. "You're that sure this is our guy?"

"Positive," Josh nodded. "I'm telling you, Leo, it's the same feeling I got with Charlie. The president's gonna like him."

"Okay." He trusted Josh's judgement. Well, when his ego wasn't powering it, anyway.

"Toby's still making noise about the State of the Union," Josh observed.

"Making noise is what Toby does best."

Josh gave him a sideways look. "You don't think he's right?" he wondered softly.

"Toby's frequently right. That's what makes him such a pain in the ass. But that doesn't change the fact that we can't do this now."

"No." His deputy sighed.

Leo stood, and clapped him on the shoulder. "One battle at a time, Josh," he said. "First, we concentrate on getting the president through the State of the Union. Then we get to worry about changing the world."