Shall We Tell the President? (33 page)

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Then I want you to take a vacation. I mean
a
real vacation,
some time
in May. Mr Elliott
is leaving me at the end of May to take up the post of Special Agent in Charge
of the Columbus Field Office. I’m going to offer you his job, and enlarge it to
your being my personal assistant.’

Mark was stunned. ‘Thank you very much,
sir. I would be delighted.’ Bang goes the five-year plan.

‘You said something, Mark?’

‘No, sir.’

‘In private, Mark, you must stop calling me
“sir”, if we’re going to work together all the time; it’s more than I can
stand. You can call me Halt or Horatio - I don’t mind which.’

Mark couldn’t help laughing.

‘You find my name amusing, Mark?’

‘No, sir. But I just made $3,516.’

‘Testing: one, two, three. Loud and clear.
Could you give us a voice test, please, Madam President?’ asked the floor
producer, now less agitated. ‘What did you have for breakfast?’

‘Toast and coffee,’ said the President
resonantly.

‘Thank you, Madam. That’s fine. Ready to
roll.’

All the cameras were focused on the
President, who sat behind her desk, sombre and serious.

‘When you’re ready, Madam President.’

The President looked into the lens of
Camera One.

‘My fellow Americans, I speak to you
tonight from the Oval Office in the wake of the bloody assassination of Senator
Harrison on the steps of the Capitol. Robert
Everard
Harrison was my friend and colleague, and I know we will all feel his loss
greatly. Our sympathy goes out to his family in their distress. This evil deed
only strengthens my determination to press for legislation early in the new
session strictly limiting the sale and the unauthorised ownership of guns. I
will do this in memory of Senator Robert Harrison, so that we may feel he did
not die in vain.’

The Director looked at Mark; neither of
them spoke. The President continued, repeating her belief in the importance of
gun control and why the measure deserved the full support of the American
people.

‘And so I leave you, my fellow citizens,
thanking God that America can still produce men who are willing to risk their
own lives for public service. Thank you and good night.’

The camera panned to the Presidential Seal.
Then the Outside Broadcast units took over and switched to a picture of the
White House with the flag at half- mast.

‘It’s a wrap, Harry,’ said the female floor
producer.

‘Let’s do a re-run and see what it looks
like.’

The President in the Oval Office, and the Director
and Mark in Janet Brown’s room watched the re-run. It was good. The Gun Control
bill will sail through, thought Mark.

The chief usher arrived at Janet Brown’s
door. He addressed the Director.

‘The President wonders if you and Mr
Andrews would be kind enough to join her in the Oval Office.’

Both men rose from their chairs and
followed in silence down the long marble corridor of the West Wing, passing
pictures of former presidents, intermingled with oil paintings commemorating
famous incidents in American history. They passed the bronze bust of
Lincoln
. When they
reached the East Wing, they stopped at the massive white semi-circular doors of
the Oval Office, dominated by the great Presidential Seal. A Secret Service man
was sitting behind a desk in the hallway. He looked up at the chief usher,
neither spoke. Mark watched the Secret Service agent’s hand go under the desk,
and he heard a click. The Seal split as the doors opened. The usher remained in
the entrance.

Someone was unclipping a tiny microphone
from under the President’s collar, and the remnants of make-up were being
removed by an attentive young woman. The television cameras had already gone.
The usher announced, ‘The Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Mr
H. A. L. Tyson, and. Special Agent Mark Andrews, Madam President.’

The President rose from her seat at the far
end of the room and waited to greet them. They walked towards her slowly.

‘Sir,’ said Mark under his breath.

‘Yes, Mark?’

‘Shall we tell the President?’

THE
END