The Last President. Michael Kurland

father never mentioned that you were coming to Washington.”

      “He didn’t know,” Kathy said.

      “Complete surprise to me,” Vandermeer said. “I thought she’d be starting college in September. But instead she applied for this Senate Junior Aide program—where they let teenagers work their young, ah, fingers off for next to no pay for some senator so they can learn about government. She got an appointment with Senator Jensen, and I didn’t know a thing about it. Starting with the January session. All on her own.” He shook his head. “Won it in a competitive examination in her school system. They didn’t even know who she was; she uses her mother’s name, you know.”

      “It must sound horribly silly to you gentlemen,” Kathy said. “But believe me, it’s the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to a girl from Grand Rapids.”

      “She’s going to live in a dormitory with the other junior aides,” Vandermeer said. “But she’s promised to come have dinner with me at least twice a week. And what more can you ask of a daughter? And, speaking of food, we must get to our own table.”

      Kathy raised her hand in farewell. “‘Immense, of fishy form and mind’,” she said. “‘Squamous, omnipotent and kind.’ I hope to see you again. You too,” she added to Kit. Then she dashed off behind her father.

      “Youthful enthusiasm,” St. Yves said, staring at her retreating form. “Lovely girl. Vandermeer must be very proud of her.”

      “He and his wife are separated?” Kit asked.

      “Divorced,” St. Yves said.

      “Ahem,” said the waiter, appearing at the table. “I didn’t wish to interrupt. Shall I serve?”

      “Yes, bring on the food. My young friend here must be starved.”

      The waiter brought their lunch, and they ate in silence until St. Yves placed his knife and fork neatly together on his empty plate. “As you may have gathered,” he told Kit, “we’d like you to work with us.”

      “You mean you people in Room Sixteen? What would you like me to do?”

      “Officially you’ll stay in your present job, and keep your present job title,” St. Yves said. “But you’ll have an assistant to do all the rote work that keeps you busy now. We want you to be liaison for plans and procurement between our group and CIA and Defense. Are you interested?”

      Kit shrugged and nodded. “Sure. If that’s what the President wants me to do. I’m getting tired of checking the locks on safe doors anyway.”

      “It was never intended that you should stay in that job,” St. Yves said. “But the reelection was everybody’s first concern, and we had to get that done and out of the way before some of our other plans could go into operation.”

      TRANSCRIPT: AMERICA WANTS TO KNOW (excerpt) Sunday, January 21, 1973

      A live telecast from our nation’s capital interviewing the newsmakers—and the decisionmakers—of the day. Today’s interview is with Nelson H. Greener, president of the newly formed Institute for an Informed America.

      Interviewers: Daniel Gores of the Baltimore Sun. Susanne Witclair of the Hearst syndicate. Ian Faulkes of the British MacPherson News Syndicate. Moderated by George Brownworthy.

      Brownworthy: Welcome to America Wants to Know, Dr. Greener. Could you start by giving us a little of the background of the Institute for an Informed America?

      Greener: Well, Mr. Brownworthy, strictly speaking, of course, there is no background on the institute. We are a brand-new organization. Our history, as the saying goes, lies ahead of us.

      Brownworthy: Yes, but what are the roots of the institute? How was it formed, and what will its function and, ah, purpose be?

      Greener: The Institute for an Informed America was formed because a group of concerned citizens felt that the opinions and attitudes of the great majority of Americans—what our president has called the Silent Majority—were not being given proper weight in the halls of government.

      The institute will function as a research facility and information outlet for those of conservative views in the government and outside, much as the Brookings Institute serves the liberal establishment.

      Brownworthy: Miss Witclair.

      Witclair: What sort of activities is the institute going to engage in, Dr. Greener? Will you only be working for the government?

      Greener: Our goal is to assure that Americans have access to all sides of significant issues. We will work for the administration, we will work for private individuals, and, if we see an area that would be desirable to explore, we will be free to initiate the research on our own. We plan to prepare reports on subjects of vital interest to the citizens of this country. We will sponsor debates and seminars, and maintain a speakers’ bureau of experts on issues of interest to conservatives. We will always endeavor to represent the average citizen—the great Silent Majority out there in America’s heartland—and not merely the bunch of effete intellectual snobs that make up the East Coast establishment.

      Brownworthy: Mr. Faulkes.

      Faulkes: Does that mean you’ll be mainly a propaganda outlet, pushing the conservative viewpoint as the answer to all problems?

      Greener: Now, I don’t think that’s a fair question, Mr. Faulkes. The institute staff will bring their intellectual resources to bear on our problems in the spirit of open, fair, scientific enquiry, with no preconceived formula or solution.

      Brownworthy: Mr. Faulkes.

      Faulkes: Then the institute will stick mainly to the intellectual approach to problems, preparing studies and position papers, that sort of thing?

      Greener: By no means. Besides the research facilities, our organization will include film crews for documentary work, public-relations people, media people, psychologists, and experts in such diverse fields as drug abuse, agriculture, prison reform, education, city planning, and oceanography. All of whom will be working in these areas on a day-to-day basis. No, the Institute for an Informed America will get into areas that would astound you.

      CHAPTER FIVE

      Calvin Middler was his name. He was a little over six feet tall, slender, and he moved with an almost feline grace. He was twenty-eight years old but passed for twenty-two. Which was a good thing, because in his circle twenty-eight was a suspect age, too close to thirty to be completely trustworthy. Too many years to be warped by Middle-American materialism before the New Values had taken hold. He was known as a college dropout, which was true. It wasn’t his fault if his associates believed that he had dropped out a lot more recently than 1965. He was also known as a Special Forces veteran, just back from ’Nam, who had joined the antiwar movement after seeing his buddies blown to bits in support of American imperialism. Which wasn’t true. He had spent his two years in the Army as a cook’s helper in Fort Dix, New Jersey.

      It was eleven-thirty, and he’d been waiting in the Why Not? for over an hour. The crowds on Bleecker Street were beginning to thin out as the Saturday-night tourists made their way back to the subways to leave Greenwich Village to the hippies, yippies, teenie-boppers, and aging beatniks who called it home. Calvin was beginning to wonder if maybe she wasn’t going to show, the girl with the sweet voice who wanted the machine guns, when there was a tap on his shoulder. “Don’t turn around,” the sweet voice said in his ear.

      “Okay,” Calvin agreed. He lifted his cup and took a sip of cold coffee. “Why not?” He spoke softly and kept his eyes facing forward.

      “We don’t want you to know who we are,” the girl said. “It should be obvious.”

      “Fine,” Calvin said. “Then stop wasting my time. I’ll close my eyes and you walk out of here and we’ll both forget the whole thing.”

      “What’s that?” the girl said. “What do you mean?”

      “Look, I’m not going to do