The Chosen One Read Free

morning. He wants you gone immediately.’
    ‘It was just one word in one email. For Christ’s sake—’
    ‘Don’t take that tone with me, young lady.’
    ‘It’s just office banter. It was one remark—’
    ‘Do you even read the newspapers, Miss Costello? Or perhaps you are more of a blog reader?’ He said the word as if he had just caught a whiff of a soiled dishcloth. ‘Twitter maybe?’
    Maggie decided this was part of Longley’s shtick, playing the old fart: he couldn’t be as out of touch as he liked to pretend, not when he had stayed on top in Washington for so long. She remembered the Style section interview she had read, in which Longley had claimed the last time he had stepped inside a movie theatre was to see Deborah Kerr and Burt Lancaster in From Here to Eternity . ‘Have I missed much since then?’ he had asked languidly.
    Now he was sitting back in his chair, relaxed. ‘Because you may have picked up that our Defense Secretary is – how can we put this? – not one of the President’s obvious loyalists.’
    ‘Of course I know that. Adams ran against him for the nomination.’
    ‘You are up-to-date. Yes. He may even run against him again.’
    ‘A primary challenge?’
    ‘Not inconceivable. The President has assembled what isadmiringly referred to as “a team of rivals”. But as Lincoln understood, it may be a team, but they’re still rivals.’
    ‘So he—’
    ‘So he’s not going to let this go. Dr Adams wants to flex his muscles, show that his reach extends beyond the Pentagon.’
    ‘Which means he wants me out.’
    The Chief of Staff stood up. Maggie wasn’t sure if the creak she heard was the chair or Longley’s knees.
    ‘That’s where we are. The final decision is not Dr Adams’s, of course. It rests in this building.’
    What the hell did that mean? This building . Did Longley mean he would decide – or that whether Maggie kept her job or not would be settled by the President himself?
    Longley had pulled his shoulders back, so that he could deliver his final remarks. ‘Miss Costello, I fear you forgot Longley’s First Rule of Politics. Don’t write so much as a note to the milkman in this town that you wouldn’t mind seeing on the front page of the Washington Post . Above the fold.’
    ‘You think Adams would leak it.’
    ‘Wouldn’t you? Revive stories about the Baker-Adams rift, implicitly putting himself on a par with the President? No thank you. The reason he’s inside the tent is so that he can piss out, not all over the Oval Office carpet.’
    ‘Does the President know about this?’
    ‘You seem to have forgotten that Stephen Baker is the President of the United States of America. He is not a human resources manager.’ His mouth seemed to recoil from the phrase, as if uttering such an absurd, new-fangled term might stain his lips. ‘I don’t want to be unkind, Miss Costello. But there are hundreds of people who work for the President. You are not of a rank at which your employment would be of concern to him. Unless there is a reasonyou think otherwise, in which case perhaps you would be so good as to disclose that to me.’
    So that meant the final decision rested with Longley. She was finished. Maggie balled her hands into fists as two instincts warred inside her: fight and flight. She certainly wanted to hit this sanctimonious prick, who appeared to be enjoying the situation far too much; at the same time she wanted to run home and throw herself under the duvet. Doing her best to control herself, she bit her lower lip, hard enough to get the zinc taste of blood.
    Longley glanced casually at his watch, a vintage Patek Philippe, elegant, unfussy; unashamedly analog. ‘I have someone waiting for me, Miss Costello. No doubt we will speak again soon.’ She was dismissed.
    Maggie passed Patricia on the way out who, she noticed, did not so much as look up, let alone make eye contact. No doubt a gesture of discretion she had learned in many long years of