Gus said: ‘Shanghai Data has a two per cent stake in As If, and no directors on the board.’
‘Two per cent! Is that all?’
‘Moore hasn’t mentioned the figure, has he?’
‘No, and he won’t. It would spoil his smear.’
‘Most of his supporters have no idea how stocks and shares work. A lot of them are going to believe you’re in Chen’s pocket.’
Cyrus, the butler, put his greying head around the door and said: ‘Madam President, your dinner is ready.’
‘Thank you, Cy.’ On impulse she said to Gus: ‘We could continue this discussion over dinner.’
‘I have no plans.’
She turned back to the butler. ‘Do we have enough for two?’
‘I believe we do,’ he said. ‘You ordered an omelette and a salad, and I’m sure we have more eggs and more lettuce.’
‘Good. Open a bottle of white wine for Mr Blake.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
They moved into the dining room and sat opposite one another at the round table. Pauline said: ‘We can put out a low-key statement early tomorrow clarifying the Shanghai Data stake.’
‘I’ll speak to Sandip.’
‘Whatever he says should be cleared with McBride.’
‘Okay.’
‘This will blow over quickly.’
‘True, but then he’ll come up with something else. What we need is a strategy for presenting you as the smart problem solver who understands the issues, by contrast with the blowhard who just says what he thinks people want to hear.’
‘That’s a good way to put it.’
They brainstormed over dinner, then moved to the East Sitting Hall. Cyrus brought the coffee and said: ‘The domestic staff will retire now, Madam President, if that’s all right with you.’
‘Of course, Cy, thank you.’
‘If you should need anything later, you only have to call me.’
‘I appreciate that.’
When Cy had gone, Gus sat next to Pauline on the couch.
They were alone. The staff would not return unless summoned. On the floor below were the Secret Service detail and the army captain with the nuclear briefcase they called the atomic football. Those people would not come upstairs unless there was an emergency.
The mad thought occurred to her that she could take him to her bed now and no one would know.
It’s a good thing that will never happen, she thought.
He looked at her face, frowned, and said: ‘What?’
She said: ‘Gus—’
Her phone rang.
Gus said: ‘Don’t answer.’
‘The president has to answer.’
‘Of course. Forgive me.’
She turned away from him and answered the call. It was Gerry.
She wrenched herself out of her mood and said: ‘Hi, how’s the trip going?’ She stood up, turned her back on Gus and walked a few steps away.
Gerry said: ‘Pretty good. No one hospitalized, no one arrested, no one kidnapped – we’re batting three for three.’
‘I’m so glad. Is Pippa enjoying it?’
‘She’s having a great time.’
Gerry sounded ebullient. He was having a great time too, Pauline guessed. ‘Did she like Harvard or MIT best?’
‘I’d say she’d have trouble choosing. She loved them both.’
‘Then she’d better focus on those grades. How are the other supervisors?’
‘Mr and Mrs Newbegin are complainers. Nothing is up to the standard they expect. But Amelia’s a good sport.’
I bet she is, Pauline thought sourly.
Gerry said: ‘Are you okay?’
‘Sure, why?’
‘Oh, I don’t know, you sound – tense. I guess you are. There’s a crisis.’
‘There’s always a crisis. I have a tense job. But I’m heading for an early night.’
‘In that case, sleep well.’
‘You, too. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight.’
She ended the call, feeling strangely breathless. ‘Wow,’ she said, turning around. ‘That was weird.’
But Gus was gone.
*
Sandip called Pauline at 6 a.m. She assumed he was going to talk about Shanghai Data, but she was wrong. ‘Dr Lafayette gave an interview to her local newspaper in New Jersey,’ he said. ‘Apparently the editor is her cousin.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She quoted you as saying that two American lives in exchange for one hundred and three Chinese lives was a good bargain.’