The Man

“Are you going to be sent up again?”

“I’m afraid not, Mr. President. I’m past my thirty-fourth birthday, and the limit for men going into space is now thirty-five.”

Dilman took out a cigar and busied himself with it, and then remembered to offer Jaskawich an Upma

“Absolutely,” said Jaskawich. “But no, thanks, that cigar is too much for me. Mind if I have one of my own?”

“Go ahead.”

Jaskawich took out a slender cheroot and his crested lighter, hastily lit the President’s cigar first and then his own cheroot. He inhaled. “Good,” he said.

“Tell me,” Dilman said, “do you like Washington?”

“I like any place where there’s action and challenge, and I guess that describes Washington.”

“It certainly does,” said Dilman. He resumed walking, with Jaskawich keeping in stride beside him. “I was thinking,” Dilman went on, “how much we could use-in the Pentagon, maybe even in the White House-the judgment of a person who has been a little closer to heaven than any of us are ever likely to be.” He cast the astronaut a speculative glance. “Think you’d be interested?”

“Mr. President,” said Jaskawich fervently, “you signal retrofire-and Washington’s where I’ll land.”

“All right,” said Dilman, “you stand by, and when I-”

Dilman came to a jarring halt, teetering for a moment, waiting, as he stared straight ahead. He could see Tim Fla

“Mr. President, I wanted to catch you before you went outside,” Fla

Curiously, Dilman suffered no pang of fear, and no hurt. He said quietly, not as a question, as a flat statement of fact, “I’ve been impeached.”

“Yes-goddamit, it’s terrible-I don’t know what-”

Dilman’s hand touched Fla

“The vote was 287 for impeachment, 161 against it.”

Dilman nodded. “I see. The voice of the people.”

“The voice of bigotry!” Jaskawich exclaimed fiercely.

Dilman licked his lips, and was embarrassed by his uncontrollable Adam’s apple. “Well,” he said, with a slight shrug. His eyes moved from Jaskawich to Fla

“According to the radio, an a

Dilman’s knuckles crept to his forehead. He felt dizzy and displaced. “I-I can’t see them yet, Tim. Get me out of it.”

“What can I do?” Fla

Jaskawich clutched Dilman’s arm. “I can help you. There’s a fire exit at the side of this building-no one’ll know-we can slip out of there-give you a two-or three-minute jump on them before-”

Immediately Jaskawich started off, with the President and press secretary following him.

Five minutes later, dusty and panting, Dilman reached the Cadillac limousine behind Jaskawich and Fla

Quickly Dilman shook hands with Jaskawich. “Thanks for everything, General. Too bad, but I don’t expect I’ll have the authority, very soon, to send for you. You’d have liked Washington.”

“I don’t like it now,” said Jaskawich angrily. “That’s why maybe I’ll show up whether you send for me or not. You’ve still got a big chance-”

“I don’t know,” said Dilman. “I just don’t know.”

As Dilman settled heavily into the back seat, then made room for Fla

“Patrick Air Force Base,” Dilman ordered the chauffeur, as two Secret Service agents slammed into the limousine. Up ahead, the motorcycles were forming a protective wedge. The Cadillac moved, wheeled right, and pointed toward the exit gate.

“Mr. President, I was just thinking,” Fla

Dilman had been immersed in thought. While the car sped through the gate, leaving the Cape Ke

Dilman pointed to the mobile telephone unit again. “Book me into a Sioux City hotel for overnight. No engagements, not that anyone except the reporters would want to see me. I’ve got no patronage to hand out now. I’m nothing more than a politician under criminal indictment, and that’s like being a typhoid carrier. I think we’ll have our privacy in Sioux City.”

Fla

“No. I need time to think, and I know what must be done first. After you’ve finished the other calls, get The Judge for me. He lives outside Sioux City somewhere-”

“Fairview Farm.”

“Yes, that’s right. Tell him I’d like to drive out and have breakfast with him tomorrow morning, ham and eggs and a little talk, the two of us, an ex-President and one about to join his club, and nobody else. Tell him I won’t need much of his time, maybe an hour, before I head back to Washington.”

For quiet seconds Douglass Dilman listlessly watched the business section, the stores and offices and nightclubs of Cocoa Beach, flash by. Then, still staring outside the window, he said, “Fu