The President

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The President Page 64

by Parker Hudson


  Unfortunately the crowds north of Grand Central Station had not heard the White House advice. On several occasions Mary and her group had been forced to detour several blocks due to mobs looting stores. Once they’d hidden behind cars in an alley when a noisy gang of young toughs had come marching down the street, screaming obscenities and ripping purses from women. Blevins had pulled his gun out as they crouched, and Mary had feared for their lives.

  But they had survived that moment and were only about ten blocks south of the perimeter, which Blevins understood from his radio the New York Police had established around the buildings for three blocks immediately south of Central Park, and extending from Eighth Avenue on the west to Fifth Avenue on the east, including among others the Park Empire Hotel.

  As they crossed Forty-fifth Street with a sea of people moving north, one young man in a group loitering in the cross street suddenly said, “Hey, that’s the president’s daughter.”

  “No way,” one of his friends exclaimed, throwing down his cigarette.

  But the first one had started moving, and the other three followed him into the flow on Fifth Avenue. “Yes, it is! Hey, she’s gotta be a ticket outa here!”

  “Or a great time till we all go!” another called, laughing.

  Blevins sensed the rushing forms behind them before he heard the shouts. He turned his head and yelled to Mary and the girls, “Go!” With that he spun around and blocked the lead pursuer, who was not expecting his maneuver. The two of them tumbled into the three others immediately behind.

  Mary looked back, almost stopped, but then pushed the girls to run as fast as they could, given the crowd around them.

  Blevins twisted and landed on his knees. As he rose, he reached into his jacket toward his holster, but a knife in the small of his back sent him back to his knees, and he fell forward onto the sidewalk, where he was soon trampled.

  In their room at the Park Empire Hotel, William was being briefed by the mayor, who was using a large map of the city spread out on a table to show how they hoped to speed up the flow off the island, as well as what the city would look like if the bomb were actually detonated.

  The mayor had been in touch with various officials at City Hall as well as the media. “Within the hour we’ll be broadcasting instructions for anyone who is trapped in the city to begin stockpiling drinking water now—that will be a major concern for days, maybe longer, after the blast. I’ve been told everyone who survives will need to stay inside for several days. If it’s detonated tomorrow after the election results, well have an extra mess on our hands for emergency personnel due to the darkness. If it’s raining, the radioactivity won’t spread as far, but there’ll be strong concentrations and hot spots caused by the run-off.”

  “And the outright destruction?” Jerry asked.

  “Interestingly enough, the experts concur that it won’t be total devastation of the entire city. In addition to Brooklyn and Jersey City, on Manhattan itself vaporization will only really happen to the Battery. But there’ll be massive destruction up to about Thirty-fourth Street, mainly from the heat and the winds, which will instantly exceed hurricane force. Up here at the park, given all the buildings in between, most of these structures and their inhabitants should actually survive, though radiation poisoning could be severe for anyone exposed outside.”

  “Sounds really promising!” Jerry said sarcastically.

  “Hey, this isn’t my idea,” the mayor retorted.

  “I’m sorry. I know. I guess this is getting to all of us a bit.”

  “As well it should,” the president added.

  Just then there was the sound of four gunshots in rapid succession in the park. The three men stood up and walked over to the window. As they did, they heard the jet engines on the three presidential helicopters starting to engage. Looking down, they could see the bodies of several policemen lying on the ground by the copters, and people boarding the craft, while other armed men kept the rest of the crowd back at gunpoint.

  We should never have left them there so long, William thought. As they watched, the rotors spun up, and the gunmen jumped on board. The first two lifted off without incident, but the crowd surged toward the last one, which was not as quick to ascend. As it did, people grabbed its skids, hoping to be lifted to safety.

  The three men in the hotel watched in horror as a gunman leaned out and at point-blank range shot a woman holding onto a skid. But the weight of all the people was too much for lift-off, and the copter peeled to the right. The main rotor sliced through the crowd and then hit the ground. The helicopter tumbled and exploded, killing many more all around it in a fireball of death. But the other two helicopters flew off to the north.

  “God help us!” William exclaimed. “We should have sent them on, with or without Mary and the girls. It’s my fault.”

  “How terrible,” the mayor whispered.

  “I have a feeling we’re going to be right here to test those experts’ theories about these buildings in person,” Jerry said.

  “I never really intended to leave,” William said, turning from the terrible scene outside. Visibly shaken, he continued, “I may not be the best president we ever had, but I am the president. I’m not running. And I’m not doubting God’s sovereignty. Jerry, get those guys in the White House on the phone, and let’s hear their plans to get rid of the madmen on that ship. Then we have to go outside and be seen!”

  Rebecca quickly looked in several closets before she found what she was seeking: a fold-up wheelchair. Thank you! she thought as she opened it and helped Eunice slide into it. Looking around, she picked up two knives, some towels, their purses, and a plastic bottle of water.

  For the first few minutes after the alarm went off there had been a lot of noise downstairs. But they had heard nothing now for more than five minutes. Have they gone? Rebecca hated to use the elevator; she knew the noise would attract attention, but she didn’t know how else to get Eunice to the top floor. So she decided to chance it, and she rolled Eunice over to the elevator door and was about to press the up button when the elevator started running! Oh no! This is it! she realized. Holding a knife in her right hand, she moved toward the elevator doors, ready to lunge at whoever was inside.

  But the elevator stopped at the second floor. They heard the doors open just below them, and several people exited. She immediately pushed the up button, hoping that it might seem like a normal exercise for the elevator. But she heard men cursing, and as soon as the doors opened she quietly rolled Eunice into the cab and then held her breath as she waited for the doors to close. Thank God, it went up!

  They arrived at the fourth floor. Rebecca rolled her friend and the baby down to the last room on the right and was going to close the door when she noticed the wheel tracks in the dust, leading right to them. She deposited Eunice and her son on the floor, then took the wheelchair and the towel and quickly created false tracks into additional rooms, wiping sections of the floor with the towel, hoping that there would be no patterns to follow. Then she retreated to the last room, where she sat down in the corner with Eunice and the baby, hoping that the newborn would not cry at the wrong time.

  WASHINGTON—The rally featuring the vice president had never been seen by its organizers as a large event. It was instead timed for maximum exposure on the network news on the last night before the election. And the Jefferson Memorial had been chosen because a smaller crowd could fill it. But the unexpected events of the day had given more importance to the rally, and it would be broadcast live by all the major networks, especially because no one had seen the president since that morning.

  Ryan Denning arrived just as the first speaker approached the platform and began lambasting the president and his “God Squaders” for most of the ills of the nation, including the ship now threatening New York. Two more speakers followed in that vein, urging the people to elect “rational” members to Congress, men and women not “brainwashed” by biblical myths and religious rituals.

  Then the
master of ceremonies, a well-known Hollywood star, said, “Before we hear from the vice president, we’ve got an important announcement to be made by a very important Washington leader, Congressman Trenton Patterson.”

  To the sound of much applause the Pennsylvanian began his remarks by reminding the audience that he had previously supported the president’s Twenty Points. “But I’m here today to tell you loud and clear that I was wrong. And our president is wrong to push these preposterous ‘solutions’ on our nation. They won’t work. They’ll hurt good working people. Please don’t elect any candidate who has draped himself in the president’s Twenty Points—they’re like the emperor’s new clothes. There’s nothing there! Vote for rational leaders who can solve our country’s ills, including this mess in New York harbor, by logic and reason, not by faith and ancient superstition!”

  He continued for five more minutes and then sat down to a huge ovation. A minute later, after a brief introduction, Patricia Barton-North continued the attack.

  “Thank you, Congressman Patterson for that outspoken endorsement. I know that it took great courage to give it, and we certainly hope that you win big tomorrow.

  “You know, we assembled here at the Jefferson Memorial to symbolize for the nation that not all of the Founding Fathers were Christians. Our nation has always had a pluralistic approach, Jefferson being one of the first and best who shrugged off belief in Christianity. We want to keep that separation alive today.”

  The vice president continued her prepared attacks on the president’s ideas. But as she neared the end of her talk, she added, “Now the events of this day give us all a real and definable choice tomorrow. Although I was in the White House Situation Room just a few hours ago, considering responses to the requests made by the Council to Liberate Palestine, I now want to make clear that I do not agree with the belligerent path that I believe our president is set to follow, risking the lives of millions of people in New York City. I say, let the people of Palestine and the people of New York City live!” There was much applause.

  “The requests broadcast by the freedom fighters on that ship are really quite reasonable and should have been implemented years ago. There is simply no excuse or reason for massive destruction and loss of life over these simple issues.

  “So, to you, the voters of America, I urge you to vote tomorrow for candidates opposed to the president’s destructive beliefs and in favor of peace and reason.

  “And to those in control of the Bright Star, I say that not all of us are crazy, nor do we wish you or your people ill. If the president does not meet your first two demands tomorrow, don’t despair. When the election is over and we’ve won, we’ll insure that those requests are met in full, or Israel will receive no more American aid. It is time, as Trent Patterson has expressed so well, for a rational, balanced approach to the Palestinian issue, as well as a rational approach to our own government.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, voters of America, I submit to you that the future of this nation, and certainly of several million people in New York, is clearly in your hands tomorrow. Vote for a rational future. Vote for us!”

  NEWYORK—The president didn’t hear the speeches in Washington. He had a frustrating briefing from Vince Harley in the Situation Room in which no new solutions were offered, but the arrival of the Delta Force at Fort Dix in New Jersey was confirmed. Afterward he said to Jerry and the mayor, “Come on, we’ve been cooped up in here all day. Let’s go outside and see what’s happening.”

  “But it’s virtually a jungle on the street,” the mayor warned.

  “Don’t we have a restricted zone for a few blocks around the hotel?” he asked.

  “Yes, but I’m not sure how solid it is.”

  “Grab your coat and let’s go see. Jerry, tell the Secret Service we’re going down.”

  Rebecca and Eunice held their breath as they heard the elevator door on the fourth floor open. For the last ten minutes they’d listened to what sounded like the operating rooms being ransacked below. Now Rebecca slowly rose and walked toward the door, knife in hand, and she prayed that the baby would stay asleep in Eunice’s arms.

  It sounded as if two or three men had exited the elevator. “What’s this?” Rebecca heard one ask. “Old storerooms?”

  There was the sound of a door opening. “No, they look like bedrooms. Must have been hospital rooms. There’s a bed in this one.”

  “Nothing in these two,” a voice said from down the hall.

  “Well, I got the bed tonight,” the first one said.

  “We’ll see.”

  Rebecca breathed again as she heard the elevator doors open and the men leaving their floor.

  Leslie and her crew were sitting in the Park Empire Hotel lobby, waiting. When the helicopter had crashed, all the other journalists who had been hoping for a glimpse of the president rushed out and across into Central Park. But Leslie had instructed her team to wait. Finally their patience paid off when the elevator doors opened and the president, his chief of staff, and the mayor of New York walked out with several Secret Service agents. The latter seemed much more nervous than usual.

  “Mr. President!” Leslie waved from across the lobby as her video man hurried to start his camera. William turned at the familiar voice and acknowledged her. She walked quickly over to him as the camera began to roll.

  “Mr. President, what will your response be to the demands from the ship?”

  “It never works to give in to terrorists, Ms. Sloane.”

  “Then you won’t propose to them any sort of compromise?”

  “Israel is a sovereign state, and they can make concessions, if they wish. Lanier Parks in Washington has been in touch with them, and if they decide to do anything, I’m sure you’ll know. As for the election tomorrow, I think you, of all people, know where we stand. As corny as it may sound to some people, I said it in January: we’re trying to serve the Lord, and throwing the election isn’t what I think he has in mind.”

  “Even if it means the destruction of New York?”

  “As terrible as that would be, think of what the next round, the next threat might be. Think of the almost certain deaths in Israel and Palestine if those lands are just suddenly vacated by Israel. Unfortunately, it’s not a ‘New York or nothing’ question, Leslie. It’s ‘New York now or something worse later.’”

  “I see.” She lowered her microphone. “Mr. President, is there any chance that we could do a more in-depth interview with you on these issues in time for the news tonight?”

  He thought for a moment. “Yes. In fact, I’d like to make a short address from the hotel. Can you set that up? We’re going to check the situation outside now, but we can do the interview when I come back. You’re welcome to come with us now, if you like.”

  “Great! Yes, we can do it. Let’s go, guys.”

  Leslie and her small crew followed the men out onto the street, which was not as crowded as the areas just to the south because the police had limited access to workers and residents. But most residents were fleeing anyway, many carrying small suitcases or backpacks. And over in Central Park they could still see the smoke and hear the sirens around the burning helicopter.

  The president could see the concern, fear, and near panic on the faces of passersby near the hotel. He stopped a few to talk; most shook his hand, asked him to hurry up and solve the problem, and left to continue their flight. He walked east, accompanied by the mayor, Jerry Richardson, and a large group of Secret Service agents. And Leslie’s crew captured it all on video, as the only television team aware of his presence on the street.

  They rounded the corner of the Avenue of the Americas and headed south, still stopping to talk, to listen, and to encourage. Some individuals smiled and encouraged him; most asked him to bomb the ship; one angry young man told him to quit the presidency and join the priesthood.

  Looking at the blocks and blocks of office buildings, stores, and apartments, William was reminded of the horrible devastation in Oklahoma City in 199
5. That was just one building, he realized, stopping short. This would be that same kind of destruction for miles and miles! O God, help us.

  As they were turning around to retrace their steps, they suddenly heard a frantic girl’s voice shouting, “Daddy! Daddy!”

  William turned and saw two policemen half leading, half carrying Katherine and Sarah up the street toward them. The two girls were disheveled, their clothing ripped, and they both were crying. He ran to Katherine and embraced her. “Oh, Daddy,” she cried. “It was so awful. These men chased us. I don’t know what happened to Aunt Mary. And the Secret Service agent, he...he...”

  William hugged her and stroked her hair. Then he reached out and hugged his niece to him as well. “It’ll be all right. You’re here now, and we’ll find Mary. It’ll be okay.”

  He hugged both girls a moment longer. Then he turned to Sarah. “Where did you last see your mother?”

  She pointed downtown. “About four or five blocks that way, on the other side of the police line. Some men were chasing us, and we don’t know what happened.” She started to sob again.

  “Okay.” Turning to the mayor, he asked, “Can you send some men that way, past the lines, looking for my older sister, Mary?”

  “Sure. I think I know what she looks like,” the mayor answered. “What does she have on?”

  “Dark blue pants, a white turtleneck, and a navy jacket,” Katherine answered.

 

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