"That's why I'm such a good security person," I said.
"There have been threats, haven't there?"
I nodded.
"Do you think there's anything behind them?"
I saw no reason to hide the truth from her. "Some masked men beat me up while I was investigating the threats, so yes, I think you've got something to worry about."
President Kramer looked chagrined. "Oh, I'm so sorry. General Cowens didn't mention that. Was it awful?"
I shrugged. "Part of the job," I said.
"Tough guy. Well, I certainly appreciate what you're doing for us. You're a supporter of the government, I take it?"
Once again, no reason to lie. "I'm apolitical," I said.
"But how are you going to vote on the referendum?"
"I don't know. I'm not even sure I'll vote."
"It sounds like you're one of the people I'm here to convert."
"I guess I am."
"Do you think I'll be able to do it, Mr. Sands?"
I considered. "I think you can probably do anything you set your mind to."
She gave me a brilliant smile. "As long as I have people like you to keep me safe, right? Thank you for all you've done, Mr. Sands." She jangled away; her perfume lingered. My narrowed eyes scanned the room, and I saw General Cowens staring at me. I smiled back. His stare hardened for a moment, and then he looked away.
So now the president of the United States knew me. I wasn't so sure this was a good thing. Eventually the schedule got straightened out, and President Kramer went off to talk to the Federal employees, who had been waiting for a couple of hours. Once again, I tagged along.
The Federal employees—including Stretch—were delighted to see her. They would have cheered her even if she had simply read from an ancient phone book. But she gave another speech like the one she gave at the airport, only longer this time, and tailored to her audience. The microphone she used amplified her soft voice but did not destroy its insinuating, seductive quality. You government workers are the guardians of the flame, she told them. It is because of you that we have come as far as we have. It is because of you that the forces of anarchy and despair have been held at bay. But our work is only beginning. The flame must burn brighter, until it can light up our entire nation once again, and then the world....
And so forth. Pretty good stuff, and they loved it. They stood and cheered at the end, and then President Kramer shook more hands. I hung around while the press conference was being set up. Stretch noticed me and walked over. He was glowing with excitement. "Wasn't she wonderful?" he said.
"She gives a good speech."
"I bet even Gwen was impressed."
I glanced at Gwen, who was scribbling in her notebook while the president talked to a knot of supporters. "Gwen isn't easy to impress," I pointed out.
"Still, that kind of eloquence has to move you."
I saw Governor Bolton approaching us. "Let's talk about it at home, Stretch," I said.
Stretch nodded his understanding. "Okay, Walter." And he went away, still glowing.
Bolton was not glowing. He looked harried; his scar throbbed. "See anything?" he asked.
I shook my head. "Not likely something would happen in here, is it?"
"How would I know?" he snapped. "It's not likely someone would tack a threat to my door, but someone did."
No, the governor was not enjoying himself. "What's up after the press conference? Do you want me to stick around?"
Bolton considered. "There's a formal dinner, but I suppose you don't need to attend. The danger's at the speech tomorrow. Just make sure you're there. And don't bring a weapon. She doesn't want any weapons."
"Cowens isn't paying any attention to me," I pointed out.
"That doesn't mean you can slack off," Bolton said. "I hired you, and you'd better do the job." He stalked off before I had a chance to reply.
I wasn't enjoying myself very much either, I thought.
Then I thought some more, and I decided that maybe I was. It was interesting to watch the president in action. And as long as nobody tried to beat me up or throw me in the army, there were worse ways of spending the day. I moved to the front of the auditorium to listen to the press conference.
About thirty news people, including Gwen, were crowded into the first couple of rows of the auditorium. I was a little surprised that there were so many—but then, I didn't pay much attention to the news. There were a few low-power radio stations on the air, I knew, and a lot of smallish local newspapers. All apparently had reporters here.
Their questions ranged from the fatuous to the obnoxious. Kramer answered each of them with charm and wit. Gwen's questions, of course, were the best. "Madam President," she said, "the post-War Federal government has adopted a new constitution, abolished political parties, restricted the right to vote, imposed controls on internal travel, and essentially eliminated state government. And yet you are asking people to vote yes on the referendum, among other reasons, because your government is the legitimate successor to the one that was destroyed during the War. How can you expect people to believe this?"
President Kramer smiled. "I don't want to give a history lesson, but let me just say that I was there, in Atlanta after the War. What took place in Atlanta wasn't easy, and what came out of the deliberations wasn't perfect, but it was a miracle that anything was accomplished at all. You may not consider that the soldiers and civil servants and congressmen who met there fairly represented the United States of America, but who do you suggest would have been better? The constitution they wrote was different from the old one, but it had to be. These have been extraordinary times, and extraordinary measures have been required.
"Now the times are changing, and the government must change with them. That's why we're having the referendum. That's why I'm here today. In my speech tomorrow I hope to outline some of the ways in which the government is going to change—and that's why everyone should come and listen."
"There has been at least one threat of violence against you if you came here," Gwen said. "How do you respond to such threats, and do you think that they represent deep-seated resistance to the government?"
"We cannot allow such threats to interfere with our goals. To do so would be to give in to the basest elements in our society. And no, I don't think the threats are at all representative of the feelings of the people of New England. Of course many people have grievances against the government—and I'm sure some of these grievances are legitimate. But I don't think any responsible person advocates or condones violence against me personally or against the government. If anyone is considering such violence, let me warn him now that I am extremely well-protected."
President Kramer smiled at her two bodyguards. And then she smiled at me.
Gwen had no further questions.
The press conference ended soon afterward. I went over to Gwen, but she had no time. "Stories to write," she said. "Deadlines to meet. I'll talk to you later."
"Um, about the way she smiled at me—"
"Oh, Walter, don't be silly. I've got to run." She kissed me on the cheek and left with the other reporters. The president had already disappeared. I was alone in the auditorium with nothing to do. So I took off my badge and went home.
* * *
Stretch wanted to rehash every microsecond of the president's visit, so I did my best to satisfy his curiosity. He was particularly impressed that I had actually had a conversation with her. "She just seems so warm and outgoing, doesn't she?"
I couldn't disagree. "It won't make any difference, though," I pointed out, "if no one's going to listen."
"They'll listen," Stretch said earnestly. "They have to listen."
It was long after dark when Gwen got home from the newspaper. She looked tired.
"Wasn't the president wonderful, Gwen?" Stretch said.
Gwen looked down at him. "I need to eat before we get into this."
We waited expectantly while she ate. It seemed important to both of us to
find out what she thought about President Kramer. When she had finished her stew, we all adjourned to the parlor, and Gwen delivered her opinion. "She's a very slick politician," Gwen said.
Stretch looked distressed. "You don't think she really means what she says? You think this is an act?"
Gwen shook her head. "No, it's not an act, exactly. But it isn't real either. Maybe we don't see enough politicians nowadays to recognize this type of person very easily, but I think I understand her. Everything she does is calculated to help achieve her goals; but at the same time she's sincere in everything she does, because she's done these things for so long that they've taken on a life of their own. I think she'd be legitimately upset if someone accused her of being less than completely honest when she talks about the wonderful, hard-working, generous people of New England. But I bet in some sense she also couldn't care less about us.
"I think she probably also has the same kind of attitude toward her goals," Gwen went on. "She can't tell the difference between what's good for the country and what's good for her, because she's so convinced of how indispensable she is to her cause."
Stretch, of course, jumped to President Kramer's defense. I wasn't interested in what he had to say, however. I was too busy thinking about Gwen's little speech. I didn't necessarily disagree with it; I too had sensed that odd mixture of artificiality and sincerity in the president. But it worried me that Gwen, normally so laconic, had so much to say about Kramer. Maybe it was just a reporter's interest in an important public figure. Or maybe it was a woman's irrational fascination with a potential rival. And I didn't feel like having to deal with that.
One more day, I thought. The president would be gone, and the case would be over. Just let me make it through one more day.
"What did you think of the president, Walter?" Gwen asked me.
I had learned my lesson. "Oh, I'm with you a hundred percent, Gwen. She's slick. Shifty. Paranoid."
"But is she as attractive in person as she is in her photographs?"
"Absolutely not. The Globe must have retouched those photos to make her look younger. The poor woman's almost in her grave."
Gwen smiled. "But you seem to have made an impression on her."
"That was just more of her slickness. She found out I was undecided about the referendum. Every vote counts."
"Did she persuade you?"
"Not at all. I can see right through someone like that." Stretch started to remonstrate with me, but he didn't get very far before we all heard the noise. He fell silent, and the three of us sat tensely, listening.
A car had pulled up outside our house. We heard the car doors slam, then footsteps. Gwen clutched my hand. Had TSAR returned to punish me for ignoring its threat? There was a pounding on our door.
Stretch looked at me. "Don't answer," he whispered. But what was the point? We couldn't keep them out if they were determined to get in. I extricated my hand from Gwen's and went to the door. I took a deep breath and opened it.
"Hi, Walter. We're back."
It was Danny Smith and Gus Ziegler.
"Well hi there," I said. I had never been so happy to see Federal troops. "What can I do for you?"
"The p-p-president wants to see you," Gus said. My happiness faded. The soldiers didn't seem to notice. Too excited by their lofty responsibilities, I suppose.
"Bolton told me I didn't have to go to that formal dinner," I said. "She'll be safe until the speech tomorrow."
"The dinner's over, Walter," Danny said. "This doesn't have anything to do with the governor. President Kramer just told us she wanted to talk to you. Privately."
"Oh. Right." The three of us stood there while I tried to think.
"Um, Walter?" Danny said.
"Right." Thinking seemed to be difficult. "Well, I guess I don't have much choice, then."
Danny and Gus just looked at me. What was there to choose? It was an order from the commander-in-chief.
"I'll just go and get my jacket, okay?"
"Sure, Walter."
I got my jacket and went into the parlor. "You, uh, heard what's going on?"
Stretch and Gwen nodded. Stretch looked very impressed.
I've seen Gwen look happier.
"I imagine I won't be long," I said.
"Stay as long as you want," Stretch said.
"We'll be here when you get back, Walter," Gwen reminded me.
"Right." There didn't seem to be anything else to say, so I put on my jacket and went back to the soldiers. "Take me to your leader," I murmured, and we walked out into the damp night.
Chapter 10
"Any idea what she wants?" I asked Danny and Gus as we got into the jeep.
"We're just soldiers, Walter," Danny replied. "No one tells us anything."
"But you must be p-p-pretty important, right, Walter?" Gus asked.
"I'm just an independent local subcontractor. Is she staying in the compound?"
"Uh-huh."
The government compound is an old-time apartment complex called Charles River Park, a short walk away from Government Center. Keeping the Feds in one place makes protection easier. I recalled that Governor Bolton was one of the few Feds who didn't live in the compound, preferring his own home in the Back Bay. I wondered if TSAR had caused him to think twice about that. "Has Bolton moved into the compound, what with all the threats going around?"
Danny shook his head. "They've asked him to, but he won't."
"Isn't he worried that they'll come after him? He'd be an easier target than the president, after all."
"I dunno, Walter. I think he likes being a little different from the out-of-state people."
"Does he think being a local will protect him from TSAR?"
Danny considered, and then shook his head. "He knows that folks don't much like him around here. Maybe someday they'll respect him, though."
So Bolton had his dreams too. I let it go. If TSAR came after Bolton in the Back Bay, that was his problem, not mine. I looked out into the night. There was no traffic, of course. For once I felt safe driving after dark. TSAR might attack an individual soldier, sneaking back to the compound before dawn, but no one was likely to mess with the three of us. One of the benefits of working for the government.
I wondered what President Kramer wanted with me. Despite Gwen's unspoken fear, I thought it highly unlikely that the woman had an uncontrollable desire for my body. I'm just an average-looking guy, not the kind women hunger for at first sight. But what then, if not that?
Maybe, for all her brave talk, she'd decided she needed more security, and wanted my advice. Or she wanted to give me a medal for having been beaten up. That would be okay. I could handle that.
"What do you guys think of the president?" I asked.
"She's a lot better-looking than her p-p-predecessors," Gus said with a grin.
"Yeah, yeah. But what about her policies? As far as I can tell, this referendum has just stirred up a lot of trouble for the Feds."
"But she's the president," Danny pointed out. "A soldier is supposed to obey the president."
"You're not always gonna be a soldier," I pointed out in turn.
Danny shrugged. "Then ask me again when I'm a civilian."
Gus came to a stop in front of the compound's gates. The guards checked us over, then let us pass. Gus parked the jeep in front of a big high-rise. There were more guards to inspect us—and frisk me—before we could go inside. "Pretty good security," I said.
"Too bad it won't be like this at the speech," Danny muttered.
The lobby was as fancy as anything I had seen in England. Plush carpeting, indirect lighting, a floral arrangement on either side of the elevator. The elevator came right away, and Danny pushed the button for the top floor. "She's staying in the p-p-p-" Gus tried.
"Penthouse," Danny said.
"It's spectacular up there," Gus added, with no difficulty this time.
"I bet."
When the elevator stopped, we stepped out into a softly-lit foyer, whe
re one of Kramer's bodyguards stood facing us. "You're Sands?" he asked me.
"Uh-huh."
He turned away and muttered into an intercom by a door. A few moments later, the door opened, and President Kramer was smiling at me. "Hello, Mr. Sands. Thank you for coming."
"My pleasure."
She held the door open for me. I went inside. She closed the door on Danny and Gus and the guard.
She was wearing gray slacks and a white cashmere sweater.
Same jewelry as this afternoon. Same perfume. She had a good figure, and I was sure she knew it. She led the way into the penthouse. It too was dimly lit, with white walls, thick gray carpeting, low couches that looked too soft, and chrome chairs that looked too hard. Piano music wafted to us from hidden speakers. A silver vase of flowers sat on a glass-topped coffee table.
It was strange to think that a place like this still existed in Boston; stranger still to be in it.
"Can I get you something to drink, Mr. Sands?"
"Um, no thanks. Call me Walter, um, Madam President."
The president walked up a couple of steps into a gleaming white-and-black kitchen and poured herself a glass of white wine. "Are you sure, Walter?" she called out. "It's French. I doubt you get anything like it around here nowadays."
"I don't drink," I said. For once this felt like a vice.
"Ah. Good for you." The president returned from the kitchen. She had the self-confident stride of the doubt-free; she was the kind of person who would have been successful even without a nuclear war, I realized. Her bracelets jangled. She joined me in front of a large picture window. There wasn't much to see—no panorama of city lights to admire, just darkness speckled with an occasional dull glow. "The whole world is dark," the president murmured in her soft voice. "Will it ever be bright again?"
"I was in England once," I said. "Plenty of electricity there." I didn't feel like getting philosophical.
She smiled. "At the dinner tonight Governor Bolton told me about your adventure. You must be a resourceful fellow to get over there."
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