Washington National Airport, it was raining hard.
The plane didn't taxi to the terminal; it stopped at the edge of a taxi strip. The copilot, a captain, came aft, picked up Haugen's larger suitcase, and carried it to the door, which he opened. Damnedest redcap he'd ever seen, Haugen decided. On the streaming concrete outside, a young man in civvies was waiting with a large umbrella. He took the suitcase from the captain, then promptly held the umbrella over the disembarking Haugen, in the process exposing himself to the rain.
They walked rapidly to a service entrance of the terminal. Inside the building, there were remarkably few people except for employees mostly standing around looking worried, as if they thought they might all be laid off. Haugen supposed they knew plenty who had been. The young man took him to a plain gray government sedan parked in a no-standing zone, and drove him through the downpour to the Airport Hilton. There he led him past registration without registering him.
Curiouser and curiouser, Haugen thought. They got off the elevator on the fifth floor and went to a room. By that time, Haugen wouldn't have been surprised at anything. The young man brought forth a key and opened the door.
Actually it was a suite. Jumper Cromwell, wearing civvies, was standing inside, waiting.
"Good evening, Arne. Using the expression loosely. Have a chair, it's your room."
"Don't mind if I do. Jumper, what the hell is this all about?"
The general looked at the young man who'd just put down Haugen's large suitcase. "Thanks, Steinhorn," Cromwell said. "Wait in the lobby. I may be here awhile."
Steinhorn saluted, about faced, and left.
"Arne," Cromwell said when the door had closed, "how's your health these days? I should have asked you when I had you on the phone earlier, but I was just assuming you were as healthy as when I'd last seen you."
"My health? Fine. Jumper, you didn't answer my question. What is this?"
Cromwell took a deep breath. "I guess the best way to tell you is to start at the beginning."
***
He took a few minutes to get to the big question,
describing and explaining his way there and rationalizing his evaluation of the kind of person needed, under the circumstances. All he left out was that he, Cromwell, would probably end up with the job if Haugen refused it. He didn't want to indicate any options at all. When he finally asked the question, he did so in an indirect way, hopeful of forestalling a quick negative. "You're the one I decided on, Arne. To be appointed vice president. I'll need your answer no later than tomorrow afternoon."
Haugen simply stared at him, unable at the moment to deal with it.
"Here's a copy of the enabling legislation," Cromwell added, handing him an envelope. "It's surprisingly short and concise. It'll give you an idea of the powers and potential you'd have in the job."
Haugen looked at the envelope in Cromwell's hand as if it might hold scorpions, then took it anyway, drew the two sheets of paper from it and began to read. Jumper Cromwell realized he'd been holding his breath, and exhaled covertly. He may do it , Cromwell thought. He's considering it. Otherwise he wouldn't be reading the Emergency Powers Act.
Haugen skimmed it once, then read it more carefully. The powers were granted until Congress repealed them, but for no longer than one year unless extended by the Congress.
When he'd finished, Haugen put the sheets back in the envelope and looked at the general.
"This is for real, isn't it?" He shook his head slowly, not in the negative, but in amazement. "My god, Jumper, it's hard to believe this is happening to me. Or to anyone!"
"You don't need to answer now," Cromwell said. "Sleep on it if you'd like. And keep the envelope, in case you want to look at it again."
Haugen nodded slowly. "I will. Sleep on it. But one thing more: Why me?"
Cromwell smiled slightly. "First of all, Arne, there's the matter of time. I was only given two days; that's not