XIV

Sam sighed, chin resting in the palm of his hand. It still felt weird to be without the beard, however long he might have lived before without it. It was harder to hide when he was pulling faces in meetings, for a start.

Not that his reaction was being taken into account in the slightest right now.

Toby was still pacing, but the rant had become as circular as the footsteps. He decided he might as well jump in now as at any time. "Toby-"

"We need to address this, Sam!"

"Toby, we can't just hijack the State of the Union to-"

"This would be the specialised meaning of 'hijack' that involves taking it where it's supposed to go? It's the State of the Union! We're addressing the state of the nation, I say we discuss the state of the nation!"

Sam rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Okay, it's not me you need to convince, Toby. You know nobody's going to let a controversial statement about-"

"The truth?"

He waved a hand irritably. "Toby, you can say we need to deal with gun crime, but you cannot connect gun crime-"

"-To the presence of guns. Yes. Presumably on the same theory that says bombings should not be linked to the presence of explosives."

Sam reflected that the only thing more frustrating than arguing a point against Toby Ziegler was arguing a point that you didn't agree with against Toby Ziegler. His boss had an infuriating habit of going after anybody playing devil's advocate - or indeed, Republicans' advocate for that matter - with exactly the same full-frontal assault on their intelligence he used on people actually espousing the position.

"You put that on the table, they're just going to say the exact same thing they've said all along." He rolled his eyes. "They'll say 'Guns don't-'"

"Guns don't kill people, people kill people. Yes." He stomped off towards the far end of the office. "Computers don't send messages, people send messages. So let's replace the internet with carrier pigeons, it won't make any difference!"

Ginger, who'd had the misfortune to open the door in the middle of this, gave Sam a sidelong look. "Toby's having a cow?" she presumed.

"Toby's having a cattle ranch. Let's put the pie away until the sugar high wears off, 'kay?"

"Okay."

Toby turned back, and fixed a glare at the interrupting assistant. "What?" he demanded rudely.

"I have to get to that meeting with Leo?" Sam guessed hopefully, sitting up. He'd take even refereeing an argument between Leo and Mallory over this.

Ginger shook her head and held up a folded note apologetically. "The president's in an urgent call, and Leo's advising. Margaret says he should be free in an hour."

She backed out of the room, offering Sam a sympathetic shrug as he made urgent 'save me' faces at her.

He groaned and slumped down in his chair as Toby wheeled around for another pass of the table. "Right," Sam said resignedly. "Let's take another look at the language for the introduction..."

"Got a moment, mi amor?"

"Sure." Josh sat up and blinked blearily at her. "What's up?"

CJ shrugged. "Just visiting."

"Then I need a moment to...?"

"Be visited."

"Ah."

She came in and sat on the corner of his desk, and ran an appraising eye over him while he ignored her in favour of the file in front of him. He looked rumpled and weary, but with Josh that was a fairly ordinary state of being. She thought this Lubbock County thing was getting to him, but it was difficult to be sure.

"Danny brought me fish food," she announced, after the lull had gone on long enough.

"Yeah?"

"I think it's a sign."

"Of what?"

"I haven't figured that out yet. It's just, you know, a general sign. Signatory. Omen-filled. Although not ominous, I hope."

Josh just nodded vaguely in time with this chain of babbling, then blinked as it came to an end. "Am I required to be insightful?" he wondered.

"No."

"Groovy."

CJ raised an eyebrow. "Groovy?"

He nodded. "Groove-filled. Generally full of groove."

"I'm gonna go now."

"Okay."

There was a pause.

"Josh, are you obsessing?" she asked him mildly.

"Over grooviness?"

"No."

"No."

"Josh-"

"I'm not, CJ."

"Okay." She accepted that, since there was little point in pushing further. "Did you hear Mallory was dating Brandon Foxton?"

"The radio guy?"

"Yeah."

"Didn't he just make an annoyingly logical case for demanding Hoynes's resignation?"

"Yeah."

He eyeballed her. "You seem suspiciously calm."

"Leo's pretty much got the ranting and raving thing covered," CJ explained.

"It's nice when you can delegate upwards."

"I think so." She rose, and headed for the door. "Don't start obsessing, Josh," she ordered on her way out.

"I said I'm not," he reminded her, with a resigned smile rather than annoyance.

"And I'm saying, don't start."

"Okay." He held her gaze steadily enough.

"Okay." She nodded, and left.

"Ah, Mr. Ambassador."

"Mr. President. This is a great honour."

Jed didn't have to be in the same room as the man to recognise the soulless diplomatic smile that was surely locked in place. He cut straight through the usual introductory bull.

"Mr. Ambassador, we have reports that your forces brought down a Chadian plane five miles over the border north of Aozou yesterday night."

There was a pause that lingered on just a fraction too long to be the international phone lines. "We have no knowledge of any such incident, Mr. President."

Jed glanced across at Leo, and rolled his eyes ceilingwards. "Libyan fighters were seen to be pursuing the plane before it crashed, and Chadian military forces were in the area after the crash. The pilot ejected, and was seen to be retrieved by uniformed troops."

"I assure you, Mr. President, there are no records of any such mission being ordered. We would not attack our neighbours in so heinous and unprovoked a manner."

"Then what about the wreckage of the plane? Or does no one have any record of that, either?"

"Perhaps it was... a civilian craft. An inexperienced pilot may well find himself stranded far from any airfield with insufficient fuel to return home."

"Are civilian craft routinely pursued across the border by Libyan fighter planes?" Jed wondered sharply.

"No doubt our fine military forces would move to the aid of any pilot signalling distress - or to attempt to warn one that had unwittingly strayed into Libyan airspace. However, even should such an action have taken place, there is certainly no truth to this reprehensible suggestion that we would pursue and shoot down a plane belonging to our Chadian neighbours. Perhaps you should contact their military and ask them to explain the nature of the operation they were conducting so close to our country's borders yesterday night."

"Oh, I'll be speaking to Chad," he agreed coolly. "Thank you, Mr. Ambassador. You've been most... enlightening." Not quite the same thing as 'informative' or 'helpful'.

"Thank you, Mr. President."

He put the phone down, and turned to the room's other occupants. Leo tilted his eyebrows enquiringly.

"Well," Jed said slowly, nodding, "if I wasn't sure about our intelligence before, I am now. I don't know what he's lying about, but he's lying about something."

Fitz glanced at him. "They're still disclaiming all responsibility for the plane?"

"I don't think they'd be admitting it existed if we didn't have pictures of the smoking wreckage to prove it. They also seem oddly confident that Chad won't challenge their version of events."

"It's looking more and more like a surveillance mission," Leo noted.

"We need to know for sure," Jed said firmly. If the Libyans had brought down a Chadian spy plane, this incident might disappear into the murky waters of international diplomacy without any further action from either side. On the other hand, if it hadn't been a spy plane and the Libyan fighters had crossed the border for reasons of their own... "We need to hear Chad's side of this."

"Can we get hold of the Chadian ambassador?" Leo asked.

"Might take a while," another aide warned. "He's going to be-"

"Make it happen," Jed cut him off. "Before the State of the Union, please. Let's get this sorted out before it turns into an international incident."