The Speaker walked in and the room became quiet. “Everybody have a chance to say hello to our prodigal staffer?” the Speaker said, gesturing toward Dillon. The staff members laughed. The Speaker’s tone changed as he turned to the business at hand. “Lisa, Rhonda, what did you find out?” Rhonda and Lisa exchanged glances. Neither wanted to start. Finally they realized the Speaker was staring at Rhonda, expecting her to lead the discussion.
“Well, sir, the basic answer is you could argue this both ways,” Rhonda said.
“Is that ever not the case?” the Speaker asked, rolling his eyes. “What’s the right answer?”
“You don’t want to have to present this to the President. Right?” Rhonda asked.
“If we do this tonight, like I think we’re going to, I need to know whether we are required to send this to the President. He vetoed the last one. The vote counts I’m getting indicate we don’t have two thirds to override anymore. Enough people didn’t like the outcome last time that they’re going to lay off of this one, especially since they think it’s even more ambiguous than the Letter of Reprisal. So I need Some hard information here. What do you have?”
“If you don’t want to present it to the President, we have Some strong language that will allow you to do that with a straight face. That’s as good as we can do.”
“So it’s not crystal clear in the other direction?”
“Right,” Lisa said. “But there’s a lot of risk.”
“So tell me what you found,” the Speaker said, now sitting in the chair reserved for him at the head of the long table.
Rhonda began, “We think it’s the same as the declaration of war.”
“I agree, same clause, same requirements. It’s one of the war powers. So where does that take us?”
“In both directions. Every time this country has declared war, the President has approved it. It doesn’t matter whether it’s called a bill, or a joint resolution. Every single time, the President has signed it and approved it. Which does make sense since Article One, Section Seven, Clause Three says that every order, resolution, or vote which requires concurrence by the Senate and House shall be presented to the President and approved by him before taking effect.”
“So then that sounds like the answer, doesn’t it?” the Speaker asked, not pleased.
“No,” Lisa responded. “You can get really creative—”
“But I don’t think we can,” Rhonda said. “I think that clause does—”
The Speaker put up his hand. “Let me hear what Lisa has to say.”
“Well,” Lisa began, adjusting her glasses. “There’s Some good stuff we found that I think we can use if we want to argue this. When President Bush got sued for Desert Storm?” the Speaker indicated that he remembered and Lisa went on. “The judge who wrote the opinion in that case”—she scanned her notes quickly—“Judge Harold Green—stated in his opinion in Dellums vs. Bush that ‘if the war clause is to have its normal meaning, it excludes, from the power to declare war, all branches other than Congress’.... That clearly means to him that the President has no role in this,” Lisa said.
The Speaker was thoughtful.
“What else?” he asked. “Well, if you go back to the guys who wrote the Constitution, Madison in particular, he has even stronger language. When he was writing in the Federalist Papers as Helvidius, he said that it was ‘the simple, the received and the fundamental doctrine of the Constitution that the power to declare war is fully and exclusively vested in the legislature, that the executive has no right, in any case to decide the question of whether there is or is not cause for declaring war.’”
The faces around the table showed surprise and amazement.
“Wow,” the Speaker said, clearly pleased now. “That’s good stuff.”
“There’s more,” Lisa said enthusiastically. “Chief Justice Marshall wrote an opinion in a case called Talbot vs. Seeman that ‘the whole powers of war being, by the Constitution of the United States vested in Congress, the acts of that body alone be resorted to as our guides in the inquiry of whether war existed.’ ”
“Madison and Marshall?” The Speaker laughed. “Doesn’t get any better than that for authority.”
“How about Jefferson?” Lisa asked.
“Truly?” the Speaker said. “Did he say something?”
“Get this,” Lisa said, reading from her notes again. “Jefferson said in 1805 that ‘Congress alone is constitutionally invested with the power of changing our condition from peace to war.’ So based on that, I think we can clearly make the argument that we do not have to present this to the President.”
The Speaker said, “I’m persuaded.”
Rhonda wasn’t. “I’m not convinced, Mr. Speaker. I think it’s a dangerous move. That same James Madison signed the Declaration of War in 1812, nineteen years later. Either we’re misunderstanding what he wrote, or he changed his mind. And he wrote the Constitution! I think fundamentally, Mr. Speaker, Article One, Section Seven requires a joint resolution or joint action be submitted to the President. I think it makes it necessary. And the authority that every single declaration of war has been submitted to the President and approved is awfully strong. I think we could look stupid.”
“Yet another point of law that could be argued endlessly,” said the Speaker. He sighed. “Mr. Dillon? You’ve been sitting there quietly. This is your idea, what do you think?”
Dillon leaned on the table. “I think this is probably meant to be an exclusive power of Congress. But the language in Section Seven makes it tough to argue that. If you don’t have two thirds, this could be a dead issue.” He weighed the pros and cons, staring down at the table for what seemed like an eternity to everyone in the room. Finally, he made up his mind. “Present it to him,” he said decisively.
“We can’t override it if he vetoes it!” the Speaker replied.
“The impeachment is starting. If he vetoes this one, he’ll be dead. If he doesn’t sign it, it automatically becomes law in ten days. Benjamin Harrison refused to sign a resolution in 1890, which was called a limited declaration of war. After ten days it became law without his approval.” Dillon got a look on his face that the others had seen before. He had something up his sleeve. “But this impeachment will be over within ten days. Pass it, hand-deliver it to him for signature. I have something else in mind for him before the ten days is up.”
“Would you mind sharing that with us?” the Speaker asked sarcastically.
“I’d really rather not. I don’t want him to see it coming,” he said.
The Speaker read his face. “We’re probably pretty close to the edge of our support with the public,” the Speaker said. “If we try and play this presentment thing now, it could all blow up…” He considered the choices. “Sure hope you know what you’re doing.”
“So do I,” Dillon said.
* * *
President Manchester ate his dinner slowly. Katherine, his wife, who was sitting next to him, was her usual quiet, steady self.
Also at the table were Greg McCormick, the Attorney General, and Arlan Van den Bosch. Manchester watched his wife for a moment, then said to the Attorney General, “So, Mr. Attorney General. This Rules of Capture thing. Is this déjà vu?”
The Attorney General had been dreading this conversation. “Basically, yes. It is déjà vu, Mr. President. The White House counsel’s office and my own have looked into it since it was first announced. We don’t know any more now than we did then. It’s another ambiguous phrase in the Constitution. It has some of the same history and background as the Letter of Reprisal but has been used even less frequently. It’s really unclear what it means anymore. Probably for capturing prizes or prisoners, and related to the Letter of Marque.”
Manchester studied Van den Bosch. “You following this, Arlan?”
Van den Bosch inclined his head absently.
“I assume our friend Mr. Dillon is behind this as well,” Manchester commented.
“You may recall
that he quit his job with the Speaker,” the Attorney General reminded him.
“He may have quit, but I’ll bet he’s behind it.”
“You think his quitting was a ruse?”
“I don’t know,” Arlan Van den Bosch said bitterly. He had become more antagonistic since his visit with the Speaker of the House when he tried unsuccessfully to derail the Letter of Reprisal. He had attempted to find a compromise and had failed. He had also spoken to the President, urging him to take a question at a press conference and simply deny that he was a pacifist, thereby avoiding the entire impeachment process. He had watched his President’s approval rating plummet. Van den Bosch’s entire political world was unraveling before his eyes. The last thing he wanted at this stage was yet another constitutional provision being used against Manchester that he didn’t understand or know how to deflect. Van den Bosch continued, “I’m afraid I’m out of my league in dealing with constitutional issues, Mr. President. But I wouldn’t put it past Dillon. Especially after getting Billings off.”
Manchester threw his napkin on the table. “You want to explain to me how that happened? How is it we couldn’t get a conviction of one lousy admiral who violated a direct order from the President of the United States?”
“I can’t explain it,” Van den Bosch muttered. “I wasn’t in charge of it.”
“You told me to convene the court-martial myself! Seemed to think that was brilliant. Then you said we should get it into federal court when it occurred to you for the first time that courts-martial resulted in trials before other admirals. You were supposed to get it into federal court! You were supposed to make sure there was a conviction. What the hell is going on? Am I surrounded by incompetence? I keep losing! Everything I do comes back to bite me! I’m doing all the right things,” he said, his voice emotional, “obeying the law, holding back and not responding to violence with violence, explaining everything I do to the American people, and all I do is lose! And now, Stanbridge comes up with another scheme to force me to act the way he wants, and I face impeachment for disagreeing with his approach!”
The other three at the table stared at their plates.
“Nobody has anything to say?” Manchester asked, amazed.
“I do,” Van den Bosch said in a tone the others had never heard before. “I sure as hell do. Frankly, sir, I am sick of trying to answer questions you refuse to answer. I am sick of trying to cover for you, to make you look better than you deserve to look.” Manchester stared at Van den Bosch in disbelief. “All of this, all of it, is due to your refusal to go after pirates who attacked Americans and their property. If you had retaliated, you would have had the highest approval ratings ever. The economy is humming along, things are going well. You should have responded, Mr. President. You should have done more than you did. But you seem to have a blind spot, or a … character flaw when it comes to using the military. I don’t get it. You’re a strong person, but you seem to be willing to do anything rather than employ the military. And the public knows it! That is why your approval ratings have dropped, that and the vindictive prosecution of Admiral Billings that you personally ordered. I told you all you were going to accomplish—best case—was to create a martyr. Worst case you’d create a hero, and that is exactly what has happened.” He wanted to stop being so critical and negative, but he couldn’t. “As to the Rules of Capture, I don’t think I’d do anything if I were you. Let them have their little legislative tantrum, and veto it. I have good information that they don’t have the two thirds this time to override. And as for the impeachment, you could put that to rest right now with one simple phone call. Call Bob Tredwell at the Washington Post and tell him you’re not a pacifist. Tell someone,” Van den Bosch pleaded. “Hell, tell me! Are you? ’Cause if you’re not, what the hell, as you like to say, are you doing throwing away your presidency?” He sat back, exhausted. “Frankly, sir, I’m sick of it. I need to think about whether I should stay on here. I’m not sure we’re on the same track.”
Katherine’s face showed her alarm. She looked at Manchester, who watched as Van den Bosch pushed his chair back and started to get up.
Manchester spoke sharply. “Sit down. Your resignation is not accepted.” He turned. “Greg, I hope you’re not out of your league with the ‘Rules of Capture’ thing. How do you see it?” he asked his Attorney General, and one of his closest friends. McCormick had managed his presidential campaign and had worked from Manchester’s earliest days in Connecticut.
McCormick swallowed and thought of what he could say without making Van den Bosch sound foolish, or his resignation threat unimportant. “It’s as I said, I’m afraid this provision is just as ambiguous, if not more ambiguous, than the Letter of Reprisal.”
“Can they pass Rules of Capture?”
“Certainly.”
“What does that mean?”
“Hard to say. Nobody’s tried to do it in an awfully long time. It’s basically wide open, Mr. President. They’re going to say that it means whatever they want it to mean, and unless they’re obviously wrong, we’re going to have to convince the public, then some court, that we’re right.”
Manchester slouched in his chair. “So what am I supposed to do,” he asked pointedly, “let them pass something else that will make me look stupid? Veto it? Nothing? What’s your suggestion?”
“Well, I don’t know, Mr. President,” the Attorney General replied. “It kind of depends on what you want to do about it.”
“What are you talking about? How do I stop this? I feel like I’m playing a game of chess, and the Speaker’s got twice as many pieces as I do.” He pushed his chair back and stood behind his wife. “Last time, we filed that lawsuit. Great idea, that. Another loss. And Molly Vaughan recommended that one. Who is apparently now on the other side.” Manchester was getting heated. “So we brought a lawsuit. I’m told the court will put an injunction in place to stop the whole thing in its tracks. The court does nothing of the kind. It goes all the way to the Supreme Court; the Supreme Court says, ‘Nope, can’t help you, the event’s already passed,’ and they’re the ones who waited before issuing their opinion. How does that happen?” He paused. “I was chewing on Arlan there for a while, but now I’ve got to chew on you—”
“Mr. President,” McCormick interrupted.
The President put up his hand. “I’m not done,” he said sternly. “Then, the Navy goes forward with this attack in direct violation of my order not to. The admiral is brought up on charges, and he gets off. Do you want to explain that to me, Mr. Attorney General?”
“Well, sir, I think they bought Dillon’s argument about the Letter being an order.”
“Well, he got off, and now he’s on his way to Indonesia!”
“Yes, sir, he is.”
“And your staffer helped get him off!” the President said accusingly to Van den Bosch.
“I asked her to leave basically, Mr. President. Made it very clear to her that she was unwelcome, that she wasn’t going to be working on anything important, and that we didn’t trust her. She quit. That’s exactly what you wanted the—”
“I know it is,” the President said angrily. “But how do I stop all this?” the President asked of no one in particular. “How do we get back to where we’re dealing the cards instead of playing the hands?”
“Well, one way to do it, Mr. President, would be to do your job.” McCormick stood. “Maybe it’s time you acted like the Commander in Chief. Maybe it’s time you told the people you’re not a pacifist instead of playing word games. It’s time for you to stand up and do your job.”
President Manchester’s eyes narrowed. “Et tu, Bruté?” Manchester said quietly to his friend.
“I’m no Brutus,” McCormick said angrily, “and you’re no Julius Caesar!”
Manchester looked at Van den Bosch and his Attorney General with pity. “You don’t get it. You want to know why I’m doing this? You think I don’t understand the pressure out there to say something clear and unequivocal? I do.
I know people are talking about little else right now. This and our next little adventure in the Pacific, which for many is linked to this. You know what I’m doing about the kidnapping. You know I’ve put a special SEAL platoon on alert. It looks like they’ve killed Mrs. Heidel, but we can’t be sure. You’ve all seen the photos. But we’re going to continue with preparation as if she is still there. I haven’t decided yet whether to do a hostage rescue—”
“Why wouldn’t you?” the Attorney General asked.
“Because too often they result in more death, not an actual rescue. We haven’t let them play their hand yet!
They got what they want. We haven’t heard from them since, so they may be figuring out how and where to let her go to minimize their chances of getting caught. I’m going to let them play that out. If we move now, we may cause the very thing we are trying to avoid.”
Van den Bosch raised his eyebrows. “You mean you’re willing to send in the SEALs?”
“I said I was willing to consider sending people in to rescue the hostage. Just as I authorized such an attempt on the Pacific Flyer.”
“Then tell the public what—”
“I don’t want to show my hand. I want this Mr. Washington wondering what I’m doing.”
“You could say something,” the Attorney General said harshly.
“Which is what I was saying. The reason I haven’t been clear to date is so we, and the country, would go through exactly what we are going through.”
Van den Bosch and the Attorney General exchanged puzzled glances. Finally McCormick spoke. “I don’t know what that means.”
“You will.”
“I want to know now. I can’t stay on, not knowing where the hell you stand on this. It’s impossible.”
Manchester folded his arms. “I want your resignation by tomorrow morning.”
The Price Of Power Page 37