Ralph Reed - The Confirmation

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book began in 1991 when I was the executive director of the Christian Coalition and we mobilized support for Clarence Thomass nomination to the U.S. Supreme Court. In many ways that episode changed my view of politics. Many scenes in The Confirmation have their roots in the struggle where I was privileged to have a front row seat to history.

I also drew from the experience of watching the filibuster in the U.S. Senate of Miguel Estrada and other appellate court nominees of President George W. Bush. In that sense, the inspiring as well as the haunting details of this story have antecedents in real life.

Resurrection, former U.S. Senator John Danforths moving account of the Thomas nomination, showed the human toll of confirmations. I also am indebted to Stephen L. Carter, whose book The Confirmation Mess argued that the judicial confirmation process had become brutal, dehumanizing, and dysfunctional.

Rick Christian, my literary agent, convinced me to stick with fiction, for which I am grateful. I also want to thank Oliver North, Gary Terashita and the rest of the team at Fidelis/B&H. Gary did a terrific job editing the manuscript and helping me correct my many errors.

Jo Anne and our four children continue to allow the interference of my books in our lives. Jo Anne is the best sounding board any author could hope to have. She read and critiqued every chapter, and the final product is much improved as a result.

I owe a special debt of gratitude to my colleagues at Century Strategies and the Faith & Freedom Coalition. Having worked as outside consultants on the last four Supreme Court confirmations, my colleague Gary Marx and the rest of our team have seen firsthand how the process has changed from an inside to an outside battle.

In the end, this book is not just about politics. It is about men and women struggling to do the right thing under enormous pressure and for very high stakes. It is also about the spiritual dimension of the battle over our judicial system. Napolean said there were two forces in the world: the sword and the spirit, and the spirit is stronger. I hope that comes through in these pages.

ONE

The president-elect stared into the mirror and struggled to tie the knot in his two-thousand-dollar silver Brioni tie as his fingers shook. He was surprised at how jumpy he was now that the moment he yearned for, dreamed of, and fought for his entire career had finally arrived. Satisfied at last with the knot, he gazed back at his reflection in the mirror. He noted with pleasure that his morning coat fit him snugly, the silvery tie and vest highlighting the streaks of grey in his wavy brown hair. The heels on his spit-polished alligator cowboy boots took his height to just over six feet. His steely blue eyes were open and inviting, reflecting his expansive mood.

Upstairs, an army of beauticians and hairstylists flown in from New York and Beverly Hills worked on the future First Ladys image. Rapid footsteps on the wooden floor above conveyed harried preparations. A dress assistant flown in by Oscar de la Renta, the design house providing two dresses for the inauguration, joined them. The entire productionhair, makeup, manicure, and wardrobewas taking more time than landing the 82nd Airborne at Normandy.

The president-elect looked at his watch. His blood pressure spiked. They were supposed to be at St. Johns Episcopal Church for the traditional prayer service in four minutes.

Claire!

No response. More frantic footsteps.

Claire!

Coming! came the cry from behind the bedroom door.

Claire, we have to leave right now! he shouted. The president and First Lady will be standing outside waiting, and the whole world will see that I cant arrive at my own inauguration on time.

Bob Long, former governor of California, claimed the peak of American politics after winning the most bizarre presidential campaign in U.S. history. Defeated for the Democratic nomination at a convention tainted by corruption, he entered the race as an independent initially seen as merely a spoiler, and his candidacy caught fire with voters turned off by the partisan bickering in Washington. When no candidate won a majority in the electoral college, the election went to the House of Representatives. Long won an astonishing victory and became the first independent candidate elevated to the presidency in U.S. history.

Out of the fog of nerves and confusion, an advance man approached. Governor, POTUS and FLOTUS are moving from the residence. ETA, three minutes, he said, using acronyms for the president and First Lady. Should we tell them to... wait?

Long looked at the advance man with a mixture of dread and panic. Then, as if on cue, Claire Long appeared at the top of the stairs, her hair pulled up, pearls the size of miniature golf balls on her neck, wearing a stunning royal blue dress with matching pillbox hat. Well? she asked triumphantly, spreading her arms. Am I worth the wait?

Long let out a long whistle. You look just... incredible! You look like a modern Jackie Kennedy.

Thank you, Mr. President, she said.

She glided down the stairs, chin held high, followed by a retinue for hair and makeup and brushed his cheek with her lips. That was when he caught the scent of vodka masked with expensive perfume. He shook it off. Claire probably had a Bloody Mary with brunch to take the edge off, he thought.

Long introduced himself to the makeup team enthusiastically. You guys did a fantastic job. I love the hair. Which one of you is the hairstylist?

Im a hair artist, replied a short woman wearing tight black jeans, a black T-shirt and reddish-purple hair.

Forgive me, Long replied with a touch of sarcasm. I didnt mean to give you a demotion. Of course youre an artist. And that goes for all of you.

They headed down the hall to the front door. Hair artist, eh? whispered Long. I guess that means shes expensive.

Not as expensive as me, honey, replied Claire.

The door opened and the Secret Service detail led the way to the waiting limousine. Long felt his heart rate quicken. It was all really happening.

ACROSS LAFAYETTE PARK, JAY Noble took a final sip of coffee as he finished a brunch fit for a king at the Hay-Adams Hotel. He downed an egg-white omelet, a plate of bacon (he was trying the low-carb thing), a bowl of fruit, and a syrup-drenched plate of French toast (okay, maybe not the whole Atkins thing). His thatch of brown hair, combed more neatly than usual, had a telltale hint of gray at the sides, white hairs he gained as the architect of one of the most brutal presidential victories ever recorded. His high forehead, cherubic cheeks, and laconic posture telegraphed an attitude of smug satisfaction. Completely out of character for an aging political hack, he wore a tailored Hugo Boss suit. He held the china cup with three fingers. A fleet of waiters flitted around the table, the matre d and manager did table visits, and other patrons craned their necks to see if it was really him. And why not? Jay was the political maestro who masterminded Bob Longs rise to the presidency.

Not to pry, but why arent you taking Lisa to the ball? asked David Thomas, Longs campaign manager and recently named White House political director. He was referring to Lisa Robinson, the black-haired, angular beauty who ran the press shop in the Long campaign, and who recently jetted off to an exotic eco-resort in Mexico with Jay.