Washington

By MARGARET CARLSON

WHILE THE GETTING'S GOOD The President looks and sounds like a loser, so his Administration is in disarray: the CIA is quarreling with Justice, the State Department is accused of dirty tricks, and James Baker is missing in action. No wonder Bush aides are preparing to flee like rats from a sinking ship.

THERE COMES A MOMENT IN ALL losing campaigns when the energy evaporates. Political operatives function primarily on adrenaline, carry-out food and the hope that "two more weeks of this and I'll have an office in the White House and clean underwear." But when the President goes to the Debate of His Life and keeps looking at his watch as if he had a much more important engagement elsewhere, there is no way for his minions not to lose heart. Trickle-down doom is inevitable when the candidate is physically present at the debates but is already mentally off at the Bush Library in Texas or on the links in Kennebunkport.

The White House is not the only place infected by fin de regime gloom. It looks as if much of the government has been left Home Alone, without an adult in sight, making do at best, wreaking havoc at worst and squabbling like children over who is to blame. FBI Director William Sessions finds himself under investigation for ethical violations -- the victim, says his wife, of a smear campaign by his enemies within the bureau. Meanwhile the Central Intelligence Agency and the Department of Justice are engaged in an unseemly fight over which one of them issued misleading information about an investigation of $4 billion in illegal loans to Saddam Hussein.

Over at the State Department, officials initially insisted that there was nothing unusual about their efforts to speed up Freedom of Information Act requests for records of Arkansas Governor Bill Clinton's youthful travels to Oslo and London -- even though such requests routinely take many months to process. Last week department spokesman Richard Boucher reversed himself, admitting that deviating from standard procedure was "clearly a mistake." But he blamed it on several unidentified "low-level people" and denied that political pressure had anything to do with the requests. That claim would be more convincing had it not followed another incident involving Clinton's State Department records. Two weeks ago, the Bush campaign spread rumors about alleged deletions from the Governor's passport file. An investigation by the FBI found no evidence of tampering.

Even the President's attempt to focus on the economy sends a mixed message: 1) The economy is doing far better than the Democrats say it is; 2) My economic team is working hard to make it better still; 3) But I'm firing all of them anyway, effective the day after the election. Not only has Bush let it be known that Treasury Secretary Nicholas Brady, budget director Richard Darman and economic adviser Michael Boskin will be shown the door; he has also asked all presidential appointees to prepare letters of resignation.

If this isn't confusing enough, consider the shifting target of former miracle worker James Baker. Yanked from the State Department to the White House last August to try to salvage his best friend's flagging re-election campaign, Baker did not come to the Republican Convention until midweek because he was on vacation. Initially, Bush promised that his successful Secretary of State would return to his diplomatic post right after the election; then, to almost everyone's amazement, he reversed himself in the middle of the first debate and announced that no, Baker would become "economic coordinator of all the domestic side." As the inevitable Co- President Baker talk started bubbling, Clinton's communications director George Stephanopoulos joked, "I wonder whether Baker will be able to find a role for Bush in a second term."

Whoever Baker is these days, he is secretive about it. He abruptly canceled a speech last week that was supposed to explain exactly what a coordinator would do. And when former Reagan adviser Edward Rollins ran into Baker and asked whether he was going to stay on through 1993, Baker replied enigmatically, "I'm going to Wyoming." Known for coveting face time on television, he has rarely been captured on camera in recent months. When Baker emerged briefly for spin-control duty after the first debate, his main concern seemed to be distancing himself from the sinking ship. "The White House chief of staff," he volunteered, "is not the campaign chairman."

The man who does hold that title, Robert Teeter, has also gone underground. Teeter won't appear on the talk shows, says an aide, because "he's afraid of getting pounded." Republican National Committee chairman Rich Bond, who seemed to be everywhere last summer peddling his line "Those other people are not America" to anyone who stuck a microphone in his face, is also missing in action. With disaster looming, Bond has become fair game: last week former Delaware Governor Pete du Pont broke with tradition and openly began to lobby for the job.

If Bush does lose, thousands of Republican officials may get an up-close look at the unemployment problem. In power for 12 years, they have decried the public sector while doing well enough in it to live in big houses and drive expensive cars. As they return to the private sector they profess to love, they may find that the free market is not as great in reality as it is in theory. With both the White House and Congress controlled by the Democrats, there will not be much demand for G.O.P. veterans. And it will take a unique kind of resume inflation to get a job touting your experience as a Bush adviser on the economy when many might hold you responsible for wrecking it.

Richard Darman, the architect of the Bush economic policy, has found a unique way to job hunt. One of the more bizarre spectacles of the Administration's endgame has been the Washington Post series on the economic meltdown. The series combined an exoneration of Darman and a tarring of others with sufficient Darman biographical material to make for an eye-catching resume. Guess who the main source was.

Those relegated to the Post's classified section rather than its front page may find it tougher going. Former Nixon appointee Ron Walker, managing director of the executive-search firm Korn/Ferry in Washington, says his office is getting "tons of calls. People want to be prepared," he says. "No one wants to be the last one out of the chute." Think tanks are hanging out NO VACANCY signs. "We just laid off five people," says Christopher DeMuth, president of the American Enterprise Institute. Although Housing and Urban Development Secretary Jack Kemp is said to be guaranteed a job with the conservative Heritage Foundation, it claims there is no more room at that traditionally Republican inn.

Others remain intensely loyal. Deputy campaign manager Mary Matalin is everywhere, spinning, pontificating, attack faxing and fuming. Of those worried about life after Nov. 3, she says, "Resume writers are the lowest form of life. Once we win this election, I'd like to wipe all those people out of office."

The voters may do that for her. In the second debate, Bush lamented that Barbara wasn't running, for she would surely win. "But . . . it's too late," he added plaintively. As he looked at his watch for the third time, it was hard to avoid the conclusion that he was thinking about his own diminishing chances.

With reporting by Melissa August/Washington