The Last President: A Novel of an Alternative America Read Online Free PDF Page A

desk.
    Sure.
    “Here. They gave us a form to follow, but it was a puling, mealymouthed sort of resignation, not the direct ballsy resignation that the public has a right to expect from their servants.” He handed it to Kit, who read it with amused interest.
    From: Barry Coles, Ph.D.
    Adviser on Economic Affairs,
    Foreign Department of International Trade
    The Executive Office Building
    To: President, the United States
    Subject: Resignation
    I resign.
    Sincerely yours,
    Barry Coles, Ph.D.
    Accomplishments while in office:
    Papers produced: 37
    Papers acted on by executive branch: None
    Papers read by executive branch: None
    Score: 0 for 37
    “I think I’ll follow the standard form,” Kit said, handing the documents back. “One gets the feeling you haven’t been completely happy here.”
    “It’s been invaluable for me,” Barry told him. “But I can’t say I see what they’ve gotten out of it.”
    “What was its value to you?”
    “It’s impossible to really know about government until you are one,” Barry said. “Even ignored as I am in this little office, I’m closer to the center of power than I will ever be again. There’s a certain exhilaration in being on the inside. Don’t you ever feel it?”
    Kit shook his head. “Not me. I’m nothing but a highly paid messenger boy. It was much more exciting over at the Agency before I accepted the President’s shilling.”
    “You mean the Department of Agriculture, don’t you?” Coles asked, smiling.
    “Sure do,” Kit said. “You know, there’s nothing stranger looking in this government than a document with a cover sheet stamped ‘Department of Agriculture—Top Secret.’ Are you going to be happy back at Columbia? Where all you can do is teach about government instead of being one?”
    “Home, as a wise man once said, is where they have to take you in. At Columbia I’ve got tenure. Here, all I’ve got is heartache. I understand that in previous administrations the Presidents used to listen to the people they hired to give them advice. They wouldn’t often do anything about it, but at least they listened.”
    “It does seem as though many of us are here more for show than substance.”
    “Why are you here?” Barry asked.
    “I ask myself,” Kit said. “They offered me the job because I did them a favor, but why I took it…I suppose was something of the feeling of getting closer to the center of power. And a feeling that it might be good for my career. When I go back to the Agency, I may skip a few grades.”
    “Well, be careful of this president,” Barry Coles said. “You have no control over his actions, but the same brush can give you a good coat of tar. If these advisers of his take him too far down the wrong path, don’t get dragged along.”
    “You’ve been soured,” Kit told him.
    “I,” Coles said, “am naturally sour. What I’ve been is sobered. Come look me up in New York.”
    “You have my word.”
    The phone in Kit’s office buzzed, so Kit gave Coles a quick handshake and dashed over to pick it up.
    “Mr. Young?” the operator’s nasal voice asked.
    “That’s right.”
    “There’s a Mr. Schuster down here to see you. Shall I send him up?”
    “Mr. Schuster?”
    “That’s right. He’s with the Washington Post .”
    “Oh.” What the hell could the Post want with him? “Sure, send him up.” He couldn’t talk about his job—not that there was anything to talk about—but refusing to see the Post man would give the appearance of having something to hide. Not telling him anything would merely make Kit seem like a normal bureaucrat.
    After a few minutes, a slight young man with a prominent nose appeared at Kit’s door. He had on a raincoat at least two sizes too big for him and a fedora that must have been his father’s. A cigarette dangled from his lips. “Mr. Young?”
    “That’s right,” Kit said, getting up. “Mr. Schuster?”
    “Right. I’m a reporter for the Post. Do you mind if I ask you a