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This Administration prizes deference to the boss. Cheney, no longer a Powell fan, always fears that the general-hero could be too much his own man. He was outraged when Powell's 25-minute speech accepting his job rarely mentioned Bush in a substantive way. Cheney installed himself as overseer of defense and foreign policy portfolios, and sits in on the weekly lunches held by Rice, Rumsfeld and Powell. Lately his health and domestic issues have pulled Cheney back some. Despite his unilateralist outlook, White House aides say, the President still sees Cheney as an "honest broker," without the institutional agenda of Powell or Rumsfeld, which earns him a higher level of trust. Bush is said to admire and respect his Secretary of State. But when Bush doesn't know the issues, he falls back on personal relations. Powell was not a close adviser before Bush ran or in the campaign; he served the campaign mainly as a form of reassurance to voters, who could look at the general and say, well, at least Bush has Powell by his side.
That sweet spot is now occupied by Condi Rice. She taught Bush his ABCs in foreign affairs in their pre-presidency tutorials. Now she's just down the hall, whence it's easy to run into the Oval Office 10 times a day. Bush wants his info whittled down to one-page memos, and she writes them; he likes one-person oral briefings, and she provides them. He doesn't want to hear a cacophony of competing voices; she ensures that disputes are resolved before they reach him. And Rice hangs out with the First Family--spending a week at the Crawford Ranch last month, going up to Camp David for relaxing weekends. Rice and Bush watch movies and sports together.
"A lot of this is personal chemistry," says a top Bush aide. "Condi and the President are very close. They're friends. He trusts her. That means a lot." Everyone says Condi is like a daughter to Bush.
Rice has cultivated an ever higher profile, which by the zero-sum measurements of Washington implies a lower one for Powell. She has expanded her original role as "traffic cop" to include public explanations of policy, like her speech at the National Press Club two months ago, while great communicator Powell has been strangely silent. Rice, not Powell, went to Moscow to jawbone Russian President Vladimir Putin into dropping the 1972 ABM treaty that is blocking Bush's missile-defense plans.
On this, the President's ruling passion, she's active, she's public and she has apparently joined the Cheney-Rumsfeld camp in its determination to push the scheme through, come what may. Powell says steadfastly, "It isn't a threatening situation to me. She's not supposed to be in my corner. She's not supposed to be in Rumsfeld's corner. She's supposed to be in the President's corner, and she is, and she enjoys his confidence."
Powell still thinks the best way he can influence policy is privately, behind closed doors. "My job," he told TIME, "is to make sure [the President] gets what he needs to make proper decisions." He's not willing, so far, to do battle the Washington way--to go public with complaints or positions in which his eminence would make even Republicans quake. "It's not whether I prevailed or failed to prevail on a particular issue," he said. "I'm not looking for anything except to serve this President and the American people as best I can."