Free Edge of Honor by Richard Herman

could take those two legal beagles along.” He paused. “Since they’re gathering evidence, of course.”
    “Most assuredly,” Bender allowed.
    “Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse,” Pontowski replied.
    The White House
    Dennis escorted the four local politicians from Maddy Turner’s hometown in California into the Oval Office and checked his watch. It was late afternoon and they were thirty-five minutes ahead of schedule. He beat a hasty retreat to ensure that the photographers were ready to record the meeting. Then he made a panic phone call to Maura O’Keith. They had a problem.
    Photographers loved Turner. She was naturally photogenic and captured the camera. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for one of her guests. One woman, who happened to be the mayor and one of Turner’s most avid supporters, had a sense of fashion caught somewhere between bag lady and troll. Dennis shuddered at the thought of a photo of the two together. Such pictures had a life of their own and always came back to haunt the White House. Five minutes later, Maura was in the secretary’s office as Dennis explained the problem. The intercombuzzed. They were ready for the photographers and Dennis wished that Turner was a little less efficient in shortening her schedule.
    Maura spoke to a secretary, appropriated her scarf, and followed the photographers into the Oval Office, tying the scarf around her shoulders. She made a pretense of examining her daughter’s hair, pronounced it fit for photographing, and generally acted like a mother, which thoroughly charmed the visitors. Then she did the same for them. She lingered over the mayor and smiled. “I know just the thing. It’s the light in here, you know.” She produced a hairbrush from her ever-present handbag, brushed the woman’s hair back on one side and curled it down and around the other cheek. She stepped back, surveyed her handiwork, and then draped the secretary’s scarf around the woman’s shoulders and tied it with a loose knot. The improvement was dramatic and the photographers went to work. Maura spoke to the woman when Dennis ushered them out. “The scarf looks so much better on you. Why don’t you keep it as a souvenir of your visit?” The woman beamed at Maura.
    As usual, Parrish stayed behind. The day was over and they went over the next day’s schedule. “That’s about it, Madame President. Nothing’s brewing, so you should have a quiet evening.”
    She leaned back in her chair. “Did Stephan send over a list of names to replace Rudenkowski?”
    Parrish nodded and extracted the list from his folder. “And this,” he said, handing her a private memo.
    Turner looked through the list and the brief biographies before reading the memo. “So Stephan is certain that replacing Rudenkowski will have adverse fallout.”
    “Well,” Parrish said, “he has made major campaign contributions to Senator Leland and does have influence. Rudenkowski probably figures he paid for the ambassadorship and deserves to keep it.”
    “Richard, my instincts tell me Poland is going to be a problem. Exactly how, I’m not sure. I want a professional over there as head of mission. But if I read Stephan’s memo correctly, Rudenkowski will cause problems if I request his resignation.”
    “Big problems, Madame President.”
    She stared at the painting over the fireplace, considering her options. “Check and see if there’s something else we can offer him.” She thought for a moment. “And have the FBI and treasury take another look into his background. Poke around a bit but keep State out of the loop for now. I want to be sure there is nothing that could prove embarrassing if it became public knowledge.” Parrish understood perfectly. It was the old carrot-and-stick approach. “Like Patrick used to say,” she said, thinking of Patrick Flannery Shaw, her former chief of staff, “kiss them on the cheek before you kick ’em in the Charlies.”
    “I never realized Shaw