The President

by Parker Hudson

  “Timing is everything.”

  “Right. The missile gunners mates are down in the magazine making the changes necessary in the hardware, and we’re about done with the software programming. I figure we’ll rig maybe four missiles to detonate on impact at short range—I doubt we’ll have time to fire many more. And of course we’ll have no way to test these. We’ll find out if we’re doing this right when and if they work, and not before.”

  “But the manual says you will have overridden the arming delay, and changed the detonator to impact only.”

  “That’s what it says,” she answered.

  “So we’ll have four missiles that are really just glorified cannonballs?”

  “You got it. No radar. No laser. No infrared. No guidance. No minimum flight distance. Just ‘It hits, it explodes; it misses, it doesn’t.’ Pretty simple.”

  “And no one knows it’s coming until it leaves the rail,” he added. “Are the guys making similar mods to the five-inch gun and the Gatling guns?”

  “Yes. I think we’ll be ready here in about three more hours. Lieutenant Commander Dobbs has the signalmen rigging the lights on the stack and the stern.”

  “Fine. Call me if I can help. The captain wants the department heads in the wardroom. I’ll give him your time estimate to pass on to the Pentagon.”

  “There, that’s it!” Mary pointed to the Burroughs Clinic from down the block. It had taken them much longer than expected to reach 110th Street. Once the sun came up, the crowds came out again. A strange phenomenon seemed to be occurring. Those who lived above the middle of Central Park had been frightened on the first day and had fled as best they could off the island. But to those who lived or worked near the Battery, this same area seemed relatively safe, after watching the television simulations of the expected blast, and they’d already come a long way. Many from lower Manhattan decided they’d walked far enough and simply stopped, either in the park, in the street, or in other people’s shops or apartments, whatever they could find. So the police-imposed low density of the restricted area around the Park Empire Hotel changed into streets full of people, starting from about Eighty-second Street north.

  The television and radio were urging all citizens left on Manhattan to move indoors and to stay there for several days. The sea of people outdoors in Central Park and on the streets began trying to move inside the surrounding buildings. Individual acts of kindness, where stranger helped stranger, were matched by acts of violence, where those outside forced their way inside.

  As Mary and the five agents reached the front door of the clinic, they noticed it was ajar.

  “Phil, Gary—go around and see if there’s a back door and report,” the chief agent said.

  “Nothing seems to be going on,” came the reply over the chief’s transceiver two minutes later.

  “Somebody probably broke in for the drugs. They may still be in there.”

  “Well, let’s go, two in front, two in back, weapons drawn. And let’s not shoot each other!” said the chief. “Phil, you stay here with Mrs. Prescott. Why don’t you wait over by that diner?”

  A few minutes later an agent signaled from the front door for Mary and Phil to come across the street. In the main hall Mary saw three unshaven men sitting on the floor, their hands in cuffs. “They say they haven’t seen anyone,” said the chief, “but I’m not sure they know what planet they’re on right now. Our guys are searching the place.”

  Exiting the elevator, one of the agents said, “Here’s a suitcase and two purses. They were in an operating room upstairs. They were opened and things thrown around. And there were some bloody rags in the trash.”

  “Let me see,” Mary said. The man handed her the shoulder bags. “Oh, dear God. Yes, that’s Rebecca’s purse. And the other one says Eunice Porter, the woman she was supposed to meet.”

  “Okay, guys,” the chief said, kicking one man’s foot, “you want to tell us what happened?”

  “Hey, I told you already. We been here since...since yesterday, I think. But I swear we hadn’t seen nobody. We found that stuff and just looked for money. What’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal is that we don’t believe you, and we’re going to get the police here to take you in. Phil, can you get them on your radio?”

  “I’ll try. They’re pretty busy and may not respond.”

  “Hey,” the most awake one on the floor said, “I think I seen two women leave this morning—like in a wheelchair! One pushin’—one sittin’—with a baby! Yeah! I thought it was a dream, but that stupid alarm went off. We had to rip out the wires. The baby was screamin, too. I swear!”

  “What time?” Mary asked, suddenly realizing he was telling the truth.

  “Gee, I don’t know. Early. It was just gray outside. I swear.”

  “Which way did they go?”

  “Come on, lady. I barely remember them being here.”

  “Okay. Okay. I bet they’re headed for the Park Empire. Can you leave one man here, and let’s go south again, looking for them?”

  “Sure, I guess so,” the chief replied. “Two women with a wheelchair headed south against everyone else shouldn’t be too hard to spot.”

  “If we get the right avenue. Let’s split up and go down Fifth, Madison, Park, and Lexington.”

  “Only if we stop at every cross street and check-in with one another. I’m not going to lose any of you. And, Mrs. Prescott, I’d like you to come with me.”

  “All right, but let’s go. It’s getting late.”

  WASHINGTON—Ryan spoke to Leslie over her earpiece just before they were to begin the noon news recap of the situation in New York, followed by a report from polling places around the nation.

  “Hey, this is one fine piece of reporting you’ve done, Leslie,” he said. “What a scoop to be right there in the hotel with the president.”

  “Yes,” Leslie spoke into her lapel microphone. “We’ve got some footage that’ll make one heck of a documentary. I just hope I get to put it together.”

  “You will. You can easily make the one o’clock helicopter. They’re going to stop at three—mayor’s orders. There have been two awful crashes because of people holding onto skids again. He’s afraid that as security personnel leave the city, copters will really become sitting targets, even on roofs.”

  Leslie said in a low voice, “I’m not leaving, Ryan.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “Yes, you are!”

  She laughed.

  “Come on, Leslie. I love you. You’ve got to leave right after this piece.”

  “No, my assignment is the president, and he’s here. I’ll be fine, Ryan. And if I’m not, I’ll at least be doing what I want to be doing. Ryan, if we do come through okay, I want to talk with you about...1 don’t know. Our marriage and other things.”

  “But, Leslie—” The floor director was giving him the five-second countdown, so he had to break off and quickly read his first cue on the monitor. “While events remain about the same in New York—we’ll have a live report in a moment from Leslie Sloane with the president—the vice president here in Washington has been reacting to Congressman Trent Patterson’s confession this morning and predicting victory for her candidates. John Sherry reports from the vice president’s office in the Capitol.”

  The scene shifted to the vice president walking toward a podium. Sherry’s voice said, “Ryan, this was the scene thirty minutes ago here at the Capitol.”

  The tape showed the vice president reaching the podium and beginning to speak. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m pleased to let you know that voters, and particularly our supporters, are turning out in record numbers. Our own exit polls show that our candidates are leading by a decisive two to one margin across the board, in big cities and in small towns. We’re very encouraged and ask our supporters to continue their great job of getting out the vote. This country’s future is too important to leave to brainwashed fundamentalists!

  “I’m a
lso pleased to announce that we’re prepared to make our Cabinet nominations tomorrow, once William Harrison resigns. This administration will not miss a beat in providing the best possible solutions for the nation’s problems.

  “And one of our first orders of business will be to accelerate the implementation of the requests made by the freedom fighters on the ship in New York harbor. This message is addressed to them: it’s almost noon, but please don’t despair. Tomorrow we will move quickly to meet your requests.

  “And this message is for the American people: only this administration will save New York!

  “Let me comment briefly on Congressman Patterson’s personal tragedy. We are so sorry he felt led to take a bribe, after serving so many fine years in the House. We have not considered his selfish use of us yesterday for his own gain as a personal attack, because of the enormous pressure he created for himself. We consider his efforts to discredit us in this way to be a sad tragedy, and we know the American people both agree with us and also wish him well in confronting a possible jail sentence. To the people of his district in Pennsylvania, I say elect Claude Rabun. There’s no point in returning a criminal to office.

  “Thank you, and we’ll see all of you tonight at one of the big victory parties!”

  Then Ryan Denning was on camera. “Thank you, John. And now a live report from Leslie Sloane with the president in New York.”

  The camera in front of Leslie came on. “Ryan, while others have been posturing for the future, the president has been here in New York at ground zero, talking with his key advisors both here and in Washington, trying to figure out the best response to this grave threat. He has displayed a personal courage that has been rare in recent memory among top officials. We have a tape of a briefing from this morning.”

  But when the scene changed, it was to a dog food commercial.

  Sorry Leslie, Ryan thought, but you’re out of control!

  NEW YORK—At two that afternoon the officers assembled in the wardroom at the captains request. As he entered, the executive officer said, “Attention on deck!” and everyone stood.

  “Seats, please. I’ve just spoken to the Pentagon. They want us to be prepared to attack at approximately three hours after sundown, or about 2030. They haven’t said go, but they want us fully prepared to leave the pier by 2000.

  “We’ll have to navigate at night with only our small civilian radar and arrive within a few feet of our intended position to have any hope of being effective with the one chance we’ll have.

  “There’s a reasonable probability that we’ll fail, meaning that for a split second we’ll have enough light to navigate with no problem! Even if we succeed in stopping the detonation, but we hit the bomb itself, there will be radioactive chunks flying everywhere, and we’ll be right next to them. There’s also a reasonable chance that we’ll be attacked by missile or Gatling gun, and we won’t be able to defend ourselves because we’d give away our true identity.

  “But even with all that, I’m told that our plan has the best chance for surprise of all the plans they’ve come up with so far, and surprise is the key factor. So I imagine we’ll be going.”

  The captain let his last statement sink in before proceeding. “Each department will meet immediately to go over your specific duties tonight. Department heads report to me with a status report at 1600 and every thirty minutes thereafter.

  “One last thing. Not everyone will be needed for this mission. There’s no point in risking more lives than necessary. Some key divisions will need a higher percentage than others. I’d like department heads and division officers to submit a manning requirement to the XO after your meetings. All nonessential personnel will be left here on the pier. For security reasons no one may depart the ship until then; but those people will have a much better chance of surviving up here at the pier than down in the harbor.

  “Any questions?”

  “Leave me, Rebecca,” Eunice said, as they sat on the steps of an apartment house on Fifth Avenue. “Take the baby and go. I’ll catch up.”

  Rebecca smiled. “No. I said I wouldn’t leave you, and I won’t. Look, we’ve only got about ten more blocks to go.”

  Their progress had been painfully slow because it was so difficult for Eunice to walk, and she had to rest and nurse the baby, whom Rebecca carried most of the time. And they were bucking the flow of nearly everyone else still on the streets.

  “We’ll make it. Rest another minute, then we’ll go.”

  As she spoke, one of the Secret Service agents, looking for two women and a wheelchair, walked past but didn’t give a second thought to the two women sitting on the steps of what he believed to be their apartment building.

  It was after three when Mary and the other agents met again at the Park Empire Hotel. For the previous thirty minutes they had noticed a marked thinning of people on the streets, as everyone made preparation for shelter during the coming night. There even seemed to be fewer policemen near the hotel. No one could really blame them. They were human, too, many with families. It was easy to go somewhere on an assignment and just not bother to return.

  “We must have missed her,” Mary exclaimed. “I know she’s here! She’s not upstairs?”

  “No, we checked on the radio. What do we do now?”

  “You guys go on to whatever else you have to do. I’m going to take one last walk up Fifth Avenue, next to the park.”

  “I’ll come with you,” the young agent named Phil volunteered.

  Upstairs the president and everyone on his floor were preparing to leave.

  “We’re set up and ready to communicate from the large ballroom one floor below ground, with no windows,” Jerry Richardson said to William. “The Situation Room is patched in and working. We’ve got a television for every network. By the way, the hotel has been stockpiling water, and a portion of the auxiliary kitchen has been cleaned and made ready as an emergency hospital, if necessary. There’re plenty of tables and sinks. And we’ve got three doctors in the hotel standing by.”

  “Well I guess we’re coming down to it,” William said. “But this isn’t exactly how I pictured watching the election returns when I launched this journey back in January.”

  Mary and Phil had only gone two blocks when Mary suddenly screamed and started to run. Rebecca looked up from the curb at the corner and yelled back. Her older sister almost knocked her over with her embrace.

  “Oh, Rebecca, Rebecca, we’ve been so worried about you.”

  “Me, too. About you.” She hugged back. “Here, Mary, meet Eunice Porter, and her son, who is a mighty healthy young man.”

  Mary turned and kissed Eunice, then peeled back the towels to reveal the naked little boy. “Hey, it’s getting cool. We need to get him inside.”

  “I’ve been keeping him under my coat,” Eunice said. Obviously weak, she sat down on the curb. “You go on. I’ll be there,” she said.

  “No way,” Rebecca said. “We’ve come this far, we’ll finish together. Mary, take the boy ahead so he’ll get warm. Then come back. We’re almost—”

  Phil stopped her. “If one of you ladies can do a fireman’s chair with me, we can carry Ms. Porter, and we’ll all arrive together.”

  “You’re on,” Mary said. “Let’s go!”

  As the sun began to set, Sadim was feeling very satisfied, convinced that he had helped create a huge change in the history of his people by forcing the election of a government in America that would agree to their demands or suffer the consequences. He expected that the next day he would negotiate safe passage for the Bright Star out to sea—no, all the way back to the Mediterranean, with a U.S. Navy escort!—after concluding the other two items on his agenda with the new American president.

  Still, it was a shame that William Harrison would escape with his life. At least he would be leaving in total disgrace.

  As originally planned, the jet helicopter from the New Dawn would be joining them after dark following a sea-top flight and a flash of their recognition
code, but it appeared to Sadim they might not need the escape ship after all.

  The Harrisons held a joyous reunion in the lower ballroom of the Park Empire Hotel. William hugged Rebecca, who introduced everyone to Eunice and her son. Leslie and her crew recorded their arrival on tape. Rebecca recounted for them how Eunice had chosen not to have the abortion.

  After they listened to Rebecca’s story, William said, “I’m glad you’re here, Rebecca and Eunice, but I’m sorry as well. All helicopter traffic has been stopped, and with the police pulling into shelters at this hour, it’s really not safe to be on the street at all—as you know! So I’m afraid there’s now no escape for any of us. We’re here for whatever comes.”

  “That’s all right, William,” Rebecca said. “This is a whole lot better than where we’ve just been. And I never miss family reunions.”

  Despite the gravity of the situation, everyone laughed, momentarily lightening the tension.

  “It is amazing, isn’t it,” Mary said, “how we’re all four here in New York on this election night. Think from where we’ve all had to come to be here together.”

  William felt a chill. Everyone was silent. Finally he said, “Now that we’re all found and everything’s been said that can be said, and polls in the East close in two hours, I think we need to thank God for his goodness, and pray that whatever happens tonight, he won’t turn his face from this land.”

  There were murmurs of agreement all around. “Jerry, let’s turn down all these televisions. In fact, turn them off for now. Check with Vince and tell him to go with what he thinks is right. He knows those details better than we do, and we’ve approved all three of their best plans. Then let’s gather here for the last two hours of voting in the East and pray.”