by Peter Murphy
‘Thank you, Mr President.’
‘Good. Well, have a seat, and let’s make a start.’
He took a chair at the head of the table. Ben Silber sat down unobtrusively to his right, and back a few feet towards the wall, notebook in hand.
‘Ben will keep an eye on the clock for me. I have to meet with the Jordanian ambassador at eleven.’
He poured himself a glass of water and took a drink.
‘I don’t suppose you expected to be meeting with me today, did you?’
We smiled. ‘No, Mr President,’ I replied. ‘This is the last thing we expected.’
‘That’s because I don’t generally get involved in settlement negotiations. I can’t, wouldn’t have time, even if I had the inclination. After all, the federal government gets sued, what, hundreds of times a year, Henry, isn’t that right?’
‘Thousands of times, Mr President.’
‘Thousands of times. And Henry and his staff either settle those cases or they go to trial, and the White House doesn’t get involved. But in this case…’ He paused. ‘I’m going to be honest with you. When I first heard about this lawsuit, I didn’t take it seriously. Henry brought it to my attention, because it is kind of unusual. But my reaction to it was, I thought it was some kind of shakedown. I believed that the Justice Department would make it go away as quickly as it had come. I truly did, and in my defence, that was not just my own view; it was also the impression I was given by my legal team. I think it’s fair for me to say that, Henry, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, Mr President,’ Shilling replied, glancing darkly down the line towards Harry.
‘But obviously, developments over the past few weeks have made all of us think again. Not only have you survived our challenge about the case being filed out of time… what’s it called, Henry…?’
‘The statute of limitations, Mr President.’
‘Statute of limitations, right. Not only did the court go against us on that, but you’ve also uncovered some evidence that, as I understand it, seems to point to Jacob van Eyck having made some pretty sizeable loans to bail out George Washington’s army when they were freezing to death at Valley Forge. Am I right about that?’
He was looking in our direction.
‘Exactly right, Mr President,’ I agreed.
‘So now, what started out as nothing more than an old wives’ tale has turned into a political hot potato, and it’s something the White House can’t ignore.’
‘It’s become a political issue, sir?’ I asked. ‘I’m not sure I understand.’
‘Well, Jacob van Eyck is now, unofficially at least, an American hero. The public knows that he played a part, behind the scenes, in winning the War of Independence. Without him, we might never have beaten the Brits. We might still be paying taxes to the King, playing cricket or whatever they call it, and drinking tea and warm beer. In his own way, Jacob may be up there with Washington and Paul Revere and all the rest of them.’
‘Forgive me, Mr President,’ Sam said, ‘I’m not sure I understand why you see that as a problem. Shouldn’t it be something to celebrate?’
The President nodded. ‘Yes, indeed, and we would like to celebrate it. In fact, I don’t see that we have a lot of choice about that. The American people are now very much aware of Jacob van Eyck and they’re looking to me, as their President, to do what’s right.’
‘That’s all we’ve ever asked, Mr President,’ Sam replied.
‘I could tell you, “No deal, we’ll take our chances in the Court of Appeals,” and from what I understand, my legal team thinks we would have a pretty good shot there, right, Henry?’
‘Right, Mr President. Very good, I would say.’
‘Right. But even then I have a problem. If I refuse to honour Jacob van Eyck because of some technicality, just because his family filed their claim late, it’s going to look like I’m a cheap son of a bitch who’s playing lawyers’ games with an American hero just to save a few bucks. The public are not going to like that, and when I run again in a couple of years’ time, my opponent is going to beat me over the head for my lack of patriotism.’
‘As I said, Mr President,’ Sam persisted, ‘all we’ve ever asked is for the government to do right by Jacob.’
‘I understand that, Miss van Eyck, but the amount of money involved in your claim is astronomical. I can’t pay out that kind of money, and –’
Oh, not again, I thought. Surely Henry Shilling has explained this to him?
‘Mr President,’ I replied, ‘I sincerely hope your legal team has made this clear to you, but if they haven’t, let me make it clear now. We’ve said from day one that we’re not interested in recovering the compound interest calculation.’
‘Yes, Henry told me that. I understand that you’re not trying to take the whole farm, Miss Harmon, but you can slash a lot of money from your claim and still be left with enough to bankrupt the federal government several times over. I can’t allow that to happen.’
‘We’re not asking you to bankrupt the government, Mr President,’ Sam insisted.
‘Well, what are you asking me to do?’
‘We want the family to have some financial compensation, of course we do. But please understand, the van Eyck family are decent, patriotic people and they have no wish to bankrupt the government. We can negotiate the amount, and I don’t think you’ll find us unreasonable. The only thing that’s not negotiable is the question of recognising Jacob for the national hero he is, and we want that to take a tangible form.’
‘What kind of tangible form?’ the President asked.
I’d been looking at Sam in admiration. Any nervousness, any reluctance to speak out, had evaporated completely. She was on stage now, in full flow, and she was putting her case. I saw every eye in the room turn to her. It reminded me unmistakably of the conference room at the New Orleans Intercontinental during the reunion. She was in charge, and every eye in the room had turned to her.
‘The government will erect a statue to Jacob van Eyck in Philadelphia,’ she replied with wonderful dignity, ‘and the President of the United States will unveil it.’
67
No one reacted immediately. But after a few seconds of silence, the President turned his chair around slightly towards Ben Silber. Ben lifted himself halfway out of his chair and, grasping the arms, carried it forward in two or three jerky movements until he was almost alongside the President. They whispered for some time. The President turned back, and seemed poised to speak, but Sam had not finished.
‘Mr President, we very much hope that you will be the President to unveil the Jacob van Eyck Memorial,’ she said, ‘and I hope you won’t think this too presumptuous of me, but something occurred to me when you mentioned that you will be running again in two years’ time.’
If the President thought she was being presumptuous, he didn’t show it.
‘Go ahead.’
‘It’s bound to take from now until then to get the memorial ready, and I was thinking how appropriate it would be for you to perform the unveiling during the campaign, perhaps at quite a late stage – especially if it turns out to be a close race. It would be a historic national occasion, and every TV station and newspaper in America would come to Philadelphia for the day.’
Greg Gascoine stared at Sam for some time, and suddenly burst out laughing. He turned to Ben Silber, who had now pulled his chair right up to the table.
‘Ben,’ he said, ‘I want you to recruit this young woman for the campaign. She’s a natural.’
‘She is, sir,’ Ben smiled politely. ‘But if I may, Mr President, it seems to me that the first question is how much a project like that is likely to cost, and it’s been my experience that they don’t come cheap.’
‘Excuse me, Mr Silber,’ Sam continued, ‘but am I not right in thinking that the main cost involved in this kind of project is the cost of
identifying and securing the site? The memorial itself can cost as much or as little as you choose in commissioning an artist to design and create it, but the site can involve some difficult real estate issues – especially in Philadelphia, where they’re not exactly short of memorials already, and sites are probably in limited supply.’
‘That’s exactly right, Miss van Eyck,’ Ben agreed.
‘What if I could make a suggestion about the site that would save the government a lot of money?’ Sam asked.
I turned to look at her.
‘What?’ I intended it as a whisper, but I’m sure everyone in the room heard me.
‘I’m sorry, Kiah,’ she whispered back, ‘I meant to tell you, but you were busy and with everything going on, it slipped my mind.’
‘I’m sure we’d all be delighted to hear whatever ideas you may have, Miss van Eyck,’ Ben said. His tone suggested that he wasn’t expecting anything earth-shattering.
‘Jacob van Eyck was a Freemason,’ Sam explained, ‘a member of the Pennsylvania Grand Lodge. That Lodge has many connections to the War of Independence, and they currently have a very active historical project going on to create a permanent exhibition of the period. They have recently come to realise what an important part of that history Jacob is. They are very interested in having Jacob recognised, and Mr President, if you were to ask someone to contact the Grand Master, I believe you would find him to be very helpful on the question of a site for the memorial.’
Ben was staring at her.
‘Are you… are you saying that the Lodge might be prepared to host it?’ he asked.
‘Can I have a moment?’ I intervened. I turned to Sam again. ‘Sam, they didn’t say anything to us about that,’ I whispered furiously. ‘They said they were interested in the case, but –’
‘John Macey and I have spoken several times since our visit to the Lodge,’ she replied. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Kiah, but you had other things to worry about, and I wasn’t sure how far it would go. But John had reported our visit to the Grand Master, and apparently he got very excited about it, and one thing led to another, and… look, I’ll tell you all about it later, OK?’
She turned back to Ben.
‘My understanding is that, if approached by the government, the Lodge would offer to host the site at the Grand Lodge itself. The details would have to be worked out, but no acquisition costs would be involved. There would be some cost in connection with developing the site, of course, but that would be far less than you would pay on the open market anywhere else in the city.’
‘Who would I be talking to?’ Ben asked.
‘John Macey. He’s the personal assistant to the Grand Master.’
Ben made a note, then leaned in towards the President, and they conferred in whispers for well over a minute.
‘Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?’ I whispered to Sam. I can’t pretend I wasn’t a little miffed about the way she’d kept me in the dark about this detail. Clients who come up with important new information for the first time at settlement conferences do their lawyers’ nerves no good at all, and I’d had a few over the years.
‘No,’ she grinned. ‘I think that’s all.’
Eventually I had to return the grin. Yes, I was miffed, but how long could I stay mad at her when she might just have removed the only sensible objection the government could make to the memorial?
The President and Ben finally disengaged.
‘Well,’ Ben began, turning back towards us, ‘Miss van Eyck, if the Lodge is prepared to act in such a generous way, that would take care of one major concern, and it might bring a project such as this within a reasonable budget. If that is the case – and I stress, if that is the case – then, Mr President, my understanding is that you would be happy to authorise us to proceed with the project as part of an overall settlement package.’
‘With that understanding, yes,’ the President confirmed. ‘And also assuming that, as Miss van Eyck so perceptively observed, the memorial would be ready to unveil somewhere between a month and two weeks before polling day.’
‘I see no reason why we couldn’t do that, Mr President,’ Ben replied. ‘I think the way forward would be for me to put together a small committee consisting of Miss van Eyck, Mr Macey and myself, which I would chair with the assistance of White House staff. We can add to it if we need specific people for specific purposes. But keep it small, that’s the key. We would make sure that you and the Attorney General are kept fully informed as we go along.’
‘Whatever you think best, Ben,’ the President replied.
He stood and consulted his watch.
‘Well, I think we’ve made some progress this morning. Perhaps I should attend these things more often.’
He was looking at Henry Shilling, who smiled politely.
‘Perhaps you should, Mr President.’
‘On the other hand, maybe not. But in any case, you must excuse me – as I said, I have to meet with the Jordanian ambassador shortly, so I will leave you to continue your discussions. Just so that you know, Miss Harmon, I have instructed the Attorney General to offer you a reasonable monetary settlement for the family. What “reasonable” means you may not be able to decide until we have a better handle on the cost of the memorial, but you may be able to come up with some ballpark numbers, don’t you think, Henry?’
‘I’m sure we can get fairly close, Mr President.’
‘Good. I’ve also made it clear that the settlement must include a reasonable figure for attorney’s fees. I understand how important that is,’ he added, with a knowing grin in my direction.
I felt no embarrassment about returning that particular grin very directly, even if he was the President. Greg Gascoine’s oldest son was a plaintiff’s personal injury lawyer in Phoenix, whose dedication to recovering every last cent he could by way of fees in every case he took had earned him a national reputation, one which had not always been helpful to his father’s political career.
‘Thank you, Mr President,’ I replied.
He began to turn away towards the door but stopped and turned back.
‘Oh, and there’s one more thing. Miss Harmon, Henry told me about what happened at your offices, and I want you to understand that no one in this room, and no one who works for anyone in this room, was in any way involved with that.’
‘We accept that, of course, Mr President,’ I replied immediately.
‘It is something that should never have happened. The people who did it are misguided people who no longer work for the government. I have issued instructions to the department concerned, instructions that ought to ensure that nothing like that will happen in the future. But I also want to apologise to you. It should never have happened, and I’m embarrassed that it happened on my watch. I’m sure the losses were covered by insurance but it’s not right that you should have to take a hit on your premium, so if you let Henry know how much we’re talking about, the government will make sure you are fully reimbursed.’
‘Thank you, Mr President,’ I replied.
The President nodded.
‘Then I will bid you all a good day.’
Ben waited a few seconds before sitting down in the chair the President had vacated.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘if everyone’s ready, let’s talk about money.’
68
The day of the unveiling was a glorious Thursday in late October, the kind of day that couldn’t possibly occur in any other month of the year: a day with crisp blue skies and the first hint of a chill in the air; the kind of day that always makes me think of brightly coloured scarves and homecomings and college football and bonfires and roasted chestnuts and pumpkins.
When we arrived, just before eleven o’clock, the activity was frenetic. The section of North Broad Street in front of the Grand Lodge had been closed off to traffic since three o’clock
that morning, long enough for the street to be filled with several hundred chairs and to allow for a dais to be erected in front of the building, just to the right of the Jacob van Eyck Memorial, which would remain veiled in purple until noon, when the President of the United States would open it up to the world’s gaze. A section of the Marine Corps band was warming up in front of the main entrance to the Lodge. The caterers were carrying large folding tables and chairs, and vast coolers containing food and drinks, into the Lodge for the reception. Technicians were wiring a microphone and what I took to be a teleprompter in position by the side of the presidential lectern. The TV reporters were out in force, going through their pre-show routines, checking microphones and scripts, scouting out advantageous positions. Guests were arriving, and consulting the giant, hugely detailed seating plan drawn up by Ben’s White House support staff, following which they were escorted to their seats by a legion of smart young ushers wearing armbands, recruited from local high schools.
Ben Silber’s small committee had proved to be pure genius. The only person coopted as an additional member, for ‘advisory purposes’, was Aunt Meg. As Ben swiftly realised, Aunt Meg’s participation removed any lingering doubts – not that there ever were any to speak of – about the van Eyck family’s support for the agreement we had reached with the government. Jeff Carlsen, Ed van Eyck and I had cranked up the publicity as soon as we returned from Washington, and when we informed the plaintiffs about the terms of the deal, and added that it had been proposed to Sam and myself by the President personally at the White House, it was approved by an overwhelming majority. The limited size of the committee ensured that once approved, the project was carried out efficiently, so much so, in fact, that the memorial had been complete and ready to go since July, but there was no way it would be unveiled in July. Sam had won Greg Gascoine over completely: he wasn’t about to schedule the unveiling before the latter half of October, shortly before polling day. Pennsylvania was shaping up to be a key state, and the President was determined to be seen to perform a ceremonial act redolent with history and patriotism, in front of hundreds of important guests and the assembled press of the world, in the heart of Philadelphia.