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talking about kids and games, aren’t we. End of speech, end of private opinion.”
    â€œIf I’m reading that correctly between the lines, you’re agreeing with me. Does that mean you’re with me regardless of consequences?”
    â€œI’m with you right up to the lynching, but who cares about me? I don’t swing any weight up on the Hill.”
    â€œMaybe he wants the Indian vote,” Suffield said dryly. “Any warheads up on the Window Rock Reservation, Jaime?”
    The Senator said, “I don’t want anybody doing a job for me if he doesn’t believe in it.” The gold-flecked eyes switched back to Les Suffield. “You get the point of this, Les?”
    â€œI do.” Suffield scowled at a point somewhere near the base of the desk and Spode could see the quick mind at work behind the broad face. Spode had never known him to confuse political expediency with the reality of his own beliefs. Suffield ate, breathed and sweated politics; it was his life, to the exclusion of all other interests. His dedication was to the intricate moves of the back-room game, the interplay of forces behind the scenes, the exercise of hidden leverage. He was at his vital best in the crises of a hair-close campaign when it was coming down to the final wire. He was like the compulsive big-time gambler to whom the stakes meant nothing intrinsically—they were only chips in the game; but the game itself counted—and how well you played it.
    Finally Suffield spoke. “I’m not deserting the ship. You’ll have to throw me overboard if you don’t want me on deck.”
    â€œEven though you’re convinced I’m wrong?”
    â€œWhere my friends are concerned, I value personal loyalty higher than political planks.”
    Spode wondered if Suffield actually believed that. More likely it was the obvious challenge that stimulated him.
    â€œMake sure,” the Senator said. “Take your time. I can’t afford to have you do half-assed work when things get tight.”
    Suffield spread his hands wide. “What do you want me to say? Did I ever tread water on you?”
    The Senator pinned him with a long silent scrutiny and Suffield met it with eyes slightly stirred to anger.
    The Senator said, “I’m calling a press conference at five this afternoon. I’m going to lower the boom. All the way. Does that make you change your mind?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDoes it make you even want to hesitate?”
    â€œIt makes me want to puke. But I’m not going to sell you out. And I won’t walk out of here and leave you with nothing but yes-men.”
    Spode grunted. Suffield flung him a glance and said, “No offense intended. But somebody’s going to have to be the loyal opposition around here, play devil’s advocate every step of the way to keep you both from making asinine mistakes. I won’t come quietly, but I’ll come.”
    â€œGood enough,” the Senator said. “Then I’m putting you right to work. Tomorrow’s Saturday—book me on the morning flight to Tucson. Let the press know I’m going; I’ll want reporters at the airport.”
    â€œWhat’s the trip for?”
    â€œFact-finding. I’ve got work to do, so get the word out I won’t be available. No testimonial luncheons or dinners for the social-climber crowd in the foothills. I intend to caucus with the military brass and the industrialists to find out how they’re going to react. Learn if there are lines of attack I might use to get if not cooperation at least a minimum of vocalized resistance.”
    â€œI can tell you how they’ll react right now.”
    â€œYou might be surprised.”
    â€œBy what?”
    The Senator smiled. “That’s what I’m flying out there to find out, isn’t it.”
    Jaime Spode said, “You might get one break. Bill Ryan took over the Air Force Base a few