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It was in this final stretch, with Powell still on the fence but leaning toward no, that the news came of the assassination of Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, a fellow soldier turned politician, who was also a family friend. Though the timing was excruciating, it didn't tell the Powells anything they didn't know. The security issue had never been as important as the privacy issue, and here the family had already got a taste of what was to come. The reports of her depression didn't especially bother Alma, but some other ugly rumors did. "She is less bothered by the truth than by fiction," Michael explains. "The public may have a right to know about her condition. But when you're being hurt by lies, which are the hardest kind of thing to rebut because they're hollow, then you realize how much you're going to be hurt for no reason whatsoever in this race. And fiction travels faster than truth."
By Monday, four days after his advisers had widely leaked a weekend decision, Powell was feeling the pressure to declare one way or the other. He admitted at one point during the day that he felt duty bound to respond to the call from all the people he had met, all the book buyers he had signed for, all the enthusiasts for his candidacy. He was honored by the ground swell and felt it to be genuine. So he met again with Duberstein at home and decided to decide that night. Armitage canceled his plans, and the three men gathered at 7 at Powell's house, in his library, for a meeting that lasted two hours and 15 minutes. Alma joined them after an hour or so.
The four talked about everything, went over all the issues, asked all the big questions about why Powell wanted to run, what he would do, what liabilities he faced. And over the course of the session, Duberstein said, "We all started talking no." At one point Duberstein asked, "Is it over?" Powell replied, "It's over." As they left the house, Armitage put an upbeat spin on the closure: "This is the beginning of the next chapter in your life."
But Powell swerved one last time. On Tuesday he gave a speech in Philadelphia to an ecstatic crowd. He was back in the Haze. Upon his return, he wondered aloud--one last time--about running. He was deadly serious. That's why Alma was waiting to hear the words herself, over the mikes, in front of the cameras, where there was no turning back.
Powell made a courtesy call before appearing in front of the cameras with his decision. It was not to Bob Dole, the now vastly more potent leader of the party Powell was at last about to join. It was not to Gingrich. Instead the heads-up went to a man whom Powell knew not only as the master of the courtesy call but also as a proven secret keeper: George Bush.
Afterward there were calls to friends and supporters, but the general decided to stay away from the talk shows. He had said what he had to say. There were critics who saw in his record a careful careerism and goaded him that he didn't have the guts for a fight. Michael has watched him do battle all his life, and so sees it differently. "Military history will show you that there are eager generals who rush into every battle, and then there are the wise leaders who know when to pull back to fight another day. I count him among the wise ones."