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TWENTY-TWO

The hearing chamber was full, with media people occupying more than half the gallery seats. The committee was large: seven senators and seven representatives. Senator Tim Brosnan was the chairman, Congresswoman Margaret Bushnell the vice-chairman.

The president sat alone at a table, facing the committee. To emphasize that this was not an interrogation, he'd brought no aides or counsel.

Senator Brosnan rapped his gavel. The buzz of voices fell off abruptly, then died beneath the senator's scanning, bristly-browed eyes. "All right, I guess everyone's here that's supposed to be. Let's get started.

"Mr. President, I'd like to thank you for agreeing to come here this afternoon. If you've been reading the wrong newspapers, you may have gotten the impression that this committee is hostile toward you. I believe you'll find we're not.

"As you certainly know, there are members of both houses, in both parties, who feel it is time to repeal the Emergency Powers Act. And a bill authored by Senators Harmer and Van Dorn has been submitted to this committee, proposing the repeal of that act. The committee is considering the bill, and you are the first person we've called on to talk to us about it."

Brosnan looked toward the Congressman farthest to his left. "We'll start the questions with Congressman Huan of Hawaii."

Huan stood, a book open in his large hands. "Mr. President, I would like to read, from the American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, the definition of emergency." He looked at a page and read: " 'Emergency. A situation of a serious nature, developing suddenly and unexpectedly, and demanding immediate action.' " He put the book down. "Considering that definition, would you say that a state of emergency now exists in the United States?"

Haugen considered for a moment. "Let's look at that definition," he answered. "It says that an emergency develops unexpectedly. The recent collapse of the economy, and of public confidence, and of law and order, was not unexpected. Various observers and commentators had been predicting it for years.

"But the Congress obviously considered it an emergency when it passed the Emergency Powers Act. And while it wasn't passed until serious rioting began, this special committee had been seated and was considering emergency powers legislation for more than a week before that. So in deciding whether a state of emergency now exists in the United States, I consider that far more relevant than the definition you just read. We had, and we still have, a national state of emergency.

"This state of emergency is analogous to the medical conditions 'critical' and 'serious.' We are now through the critical stage; the patient is no longer in momentary danger of dying. But its condition is still serious, requiring special treatment. We need to build its health sufficiently that it can function without the danger of another quick collapse. And that recovery is by no means a simple matter."

He paused. "I believe that answers your question, congressman, but I'd like to say a little more about the subject if I may."

Huan nodded. "By all means."

"As of last Saturday, the patient, the United States of America, still had 42% of its work force unemployed. Forty-two percent! That's a substantial improvement, but it's very far from being something the country can live with for long. Numerous businesses have reopened, but far more have not.

"And beyond that, many millions of people have lost their savings, their investments, their pension funds—whatever security they had for their old age. Millions of elderly people are destitute; many have been found dead of exposure and illness, compounded by malnutrition. Many insurance companies have gone bankrupt, leaving families without death protection, health protection—any protection at all.

"And with these losses, people also lost their confidence in government as it was—government which allowed, and even led, the economy step by step to ruin. Not deliberately, but through error and doggedly persistent shortsightedness.

"I can only hope, you can only hope, the people can only hope, that over the next year or so we will hammer out workable procedures that will provide and maintain an operational economy and a just and intelligent, functioning democratic government." He paused again. "While at the same time reestablishing the level of personal liberty intended by the founding fathers. And gradually eroded by government, the professions, special interest lobbies—let's say by 'the establishment.'

"If the emergency government fails to provide those procedures, there is little chance that the people will look to government as it was. They will look elsewhere. Fortunately, right now the American people are willing to let the emergency government, and myself, lead them through a reconstruction. It seems to me to be a good idea for the Congress to let us continue."

The president sat back. A brief spatter of applause sounded from the gallery, to die of embarrassment and Senator Brosnan's frown.

"Senator Cerotti of New Jersey is recognized," Brosnan said.

"Mr. President," Cerotti said, "recently you took it upon yourself to restructure a very large segment of the national economy, when you decreed law regulating the interactions of business and labor. Would you say that you acted beyond the intent of Congress in doing that?"

"Presumably," Haugen replied, "Congress passed the Emergency Powers Act to empower the president to handle the emergency. And ending the emergency can't he done simply with bread lines and cheese lines and potato lines, as I'm sure you agree; or by food lines and emergency work projects combined. Those are vital short-term actions, like administering oxygen and plasma. But to end the emergency, we have to correct the things that caused the emergency, and the things that hold it in place.

"I consider that my principal responsibility."

The president sat back, and Brosnan looked to his left again. There were eleven more to ask questions, not including himself. There'd probably be time for a second round by most of them. "The chair," he said, "recognizes Congressman Washington of Georgia."

***

In his living room, General Cromwell watched and listened, sipping absently at whiskey and water. His daughter sat near. He was a widower, she a senior at George Washington University, majoring in mathematics.

"What do you think of him, Julie?" he asked.

"The president? He's either very good or very dangerous, or both. I think I like him though; at least he's not more of the same old stuff, and he's got class. I'm willing to let him continue awhile."

Cromwell nodded, wondering how representative her view was among students.

***

During the single break, Brosnan and Kreiner talked together over coffee.

"What do you think?" Kreiner asked. "It's going good. We'll see how Bender behaves." Kreiner nodded. "Bender thinks of himself as the reincarnation of Thomas E. Dewey. The great prosecutor. But he only gets one question at a time; no chance to confuse and hammer on the witness. Or in this case the guest. That's an advantage of this format."

"We're going to have to send the bill to the floor, you know," Brosnan said, "regardless of what we think of it. The subject's too loaded, too hot to kill in committee. And by the nature of the beast, there's no reasonable way we can send it up altered or amended."

"I suppose you've been reading your mail?"

"I've been reading the tally sheets. Since the Harmer-Van Dorn bill hit the news, the volume's been way up, with about six to one for leaving the emergency powers in place. But there's a hell of a lot of lobbyist pressure; the heaviest I've seen in my twenty years here. I've even heard a few voices say they're afraid the IRS will lay a punitive audit on them if they don't vote to repeal."

"The IRS!" Kreiner's voice rose an octave. "Who the hell started that bullshit? Haugen handled the IRS; the psychotic faction over there is on the street now. The IRS is walking the straight and narrow these days, what with four criminal indictments filed and more expected."

Brosnan shrugged. "Let's face it, Howard. A few of our colleagues aren't B-R-I-G-H-T. Start a rumor like that and you can scare some of them. And a month ago, the threat would have been real, as witness Wilheit and Cameron. And Cade."

The look he fixed on Kreiner was serious. "I can count all right, and I'm not concerned about how the vote would go if it came up tomorrow. But the way it looks to me, Arne Haugen doesn't have a lot of room for mistakes."

***

Lois Haugen turned from the television to Stephen Flynn. She looked calm, even serene. But then, perhaps I do too, Flynn thought. Inside he was not. Inside he felt an ill-defined uneasiness, a nervousness, a low-intensity, formless fear. He could not have said more than that about it; its roots were beneath his reach.

"He's doing well," she said with utter certainty.

It was that appearance of certainty which had always struck Flynn as her most intriguing attribute—as if she knew what she knew, right or wrong. It seemed incredible that someone could live for more than sixty years with that attitude intact.

Or maybe, he thought, she hasn't had it through all those years. Maybe she'd gained it late in life. Perhaps someday he could know that certainty, he who had more need of it than most, and perhaps less of it than many.

"Yes he has," Flynn replied. "He's done marvelously well." But where would it lead? "Power tends to corrupt," Lord Acton had written. Not the usual misquote that "power corrupts." Power tends to corrupt. How susceptible was Arne Haugen to that tendency? That, Flynn knew, was why his friend had invited him to the White House. The "auxiliary conscience" he wanted was to help him guard against just that.

Conscience, that "still small voice," was the Holy Spirit, God in man. But man had the option of ignoring conscience; many seemed totally deaf to it in the face of temptation. Arne Haugen wasn't deaf to it, but he might be cozened by a swell of public approval, or by what he perceived as one.

Flynn wondered how useful Lois Haugen would be as an auxiliary conscience. Was she the "all-accepting, all-supportive wife," or did she call her husband on significant points of difference? With a man like Arne, a man fair-minded and so often right, an attitude of "all-accepting, all-supportive" might be easy to fall into. Perhaps that was the source of her certainty, her serenity.

"Excuse me for a few minutes," Lois said, getting up. "If you'd like, you might want to rummage through the refrigerator while you wait."

She left, probably for her bathroom, and he went to the birch-veneered refrigerator that stood like a cabinet near one wall. He could have used a drink of the scotch he found there, but he settled for 7-Up.

***

Even Bender had not proven particularly antagonistic. As if he'd been defused by the president's earlier statements. And the president had not seemed to tire during the nearly two hours of questioning. Now Brosnan fixed his gaze on the last questioner there'd be time for.

"The Chair recognizes Senator Morrows of California," he said.

"Mr. President," Morrows began, "you've spoken to us here of hammering out a viable system. You've indicated that you'll be decreeing further laws. And you've apportioned blame—or responsibility rather; I appreciate the difference. You've apportioned responsibility for what happened not only on the Congress but on the Judicial and the Executive branches. And finally on the people and on special interests.

"And it seems to me, Mr. President, that to work out that viable system you spoke of would be very difficult without changing the Constitution. What are your views on that? And if you envision a need for a new Constitution, from whom would that Constitution come?"

Haugen didn't hesitate. "I see no need for a new Constitution. I do see a need for amendments. But my view from here is that most of the needed changes can be made within the framework of the Constitution as it is, without amendment. Certainly the original document, including the Bill of Rights, should stand.

"Nor should any amendments infringe upon the basic principles it contains. They should support those principles and perhaps elaborate them. The purpose of any amendments should be to elaborate those principles explicitly for today's world, and for what we can foresee of tomorrow's. While making full use of more than two centuries of American experience with representative democracy."

He paused for emphasis. "And I personally would like to see an amendment allowing federal legislation by popular referendum; let the people vote on key issues. It would stimulate public interest and discussion in issues, and reduce the power of special interest lobbies."

He paused. "And full use should be made of the experience we will have had under this emergency government. I'll be installing more new ways of doing certain things, and if they work—if the people like them—I'd expect them to be continued.

"As for who should draw up any constitutional amendments: The Constitution defines that. The Congress proposes, and the state legislatures approve or disapprove.

"Although when the time comes, I'd like to see a nationwide referendum on the proposed amendments, so the American people can express themselves on them as guidance for the legislatures.

"And that," he said to Morrows, "is all I have to say about that."

Senator Brosnan leaned elbows on his desk. "Thank you for your time and frankness, Mr. President. You've answered a lot of questions, and I'm sure you've set to rest some misgivings and concerns, as well as providing food for thought." He looked around at the committee. "That ends the session for today. This committee will meet again tomorrow morning at nine-thirty."

***

Julie Cromwell looked at her father, and he at her. "Daddy," she said, "I don't know how this is going to turn out. But right now I'd have to say you did a damned good job of picking your man."

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