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Pauline laughed.
Chess said: ‘It’s not rocket science; we just have to do the detective work.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Lots. Monitor ship-to-ship transfers at sea – something we can do now by satellite. Make it difficult for North Korea to access its offshore hard-currency reserves. Make trouble for nations suspected of sanctions-busting.’
‘Heck, let’s do it,’ said Pauline.
‘Thank you, Madam President.’
Lizzie opened the door and said: ‘Mr Chakraborty would like a word.’
Pauline said: ‘Come in, Sandip.’
Sandip Chakraborty, the Communications Director, was a bright young Bengali American wearing a suit with sneakers, a current fashion among hip Washington staffers. He said: ‘James Moore is making a major speech tonight in Greenville, South Carolina, and I’ve heard he’s going to talk about the UN resolution. I thought you might want to know.’
Pauline said: ‘Put on CNN, please.’
Sandip switched on the TV set and Moore appeared.
He was sixty, ten years older than Pauline. He had craggy features and a greying blond crewcut. His suit jacket was Western style, with V-shaped stitching on the shoulder yokes and pocket flaps.
Milt said disparagingly: ‘Just because you come from the south doesn’t mean you have to dress like a shit-kicker.’
Chess said: ‘He made his money from oil, not cattle.’
‘I bet he has a horse called Trigger.’
‘But look,’ said Pauline, ‘see how they love him.’
Moore was glad-handing shoppers in a sunlit street. They crowded around him, taking selfies with their phones. ‘This way, Jimmy! Look at me! Smile, smile!’ The women in particular were thrilled to be with him.
He never stopped speaking, saying: ‘How are you? Good to see you. Hi. Thank you for your support – I sure appreciate it.’
A young woman thrust a microphone in his face and said: ‘Are you going to condemn China for selling arms to terrorists when you speak tonight?’
‘I’m sure fixing to discuss arms sales, ma’am.’
‘But what will you say?’
Moore gave her a roguish grin. ‘Well, ma’am, if I told you that now, no one would need to come out and hear me speak later, would they?’
Pauline said: ‘Turn it off.’
The screen went dark.
Chess said: ‘The man’s a walking joke!’
Milt said: ‘But he’s got a great act.’
Lizzie looked in and said: ‘Mr Green is here, Madam President.’
Pauline stood up, and the others did the same. She said: ‘I’m not finished with this. Let’s have a meeting tomorrow morning in the conference room. Come with ideas for letting the Chinese know we haven’t given up.’
They all left, and Gerry came in. He was dressed for business in a navy suit and a striped tie. He rarely entered the Oval Office. Pauline said: ‘Is something wrong?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, sitting opposite her. Milt had left his purple scarf behind on the seat, and Gerry picked it up and draped it over the arm of the couch. ‘The principal of Pippa’s school came to my office this afternoon.’
