[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
death. In fact, they have film. And it clearly shows your head being blown
apart in living color."
"That was not me but a Secret Service agent who looks a little like me."
"In other words, a double?" the former White House correspondent said
quickly.
"A decoy," the President snapped back. "Not a double."
"Can you prove that you're the real double and not the dead double?"
The President jerked an angry thumb over his shoulder at Air Force One. "His
brave body is in the process of being unloaded," he said tightly.
"When will we be allowed to film the corpse?"
"You wouldn't be able to broadcast the film. Trust me."
"We telecast the film of you having your head blown apart," a woman reporter
corrected. "Semilive."
"That wasn't me," the President snapped.
"We haven't fully established this yet," another reporter pointed out in a
tone more reasonable than the comment itself.
"Look at me!" the President exploded. "I am the President of the United
States. I am standing here in my own flesh speaking in my own voice. What is
so darn hard to understand?"
"Do you have a comment on Watergate-I mean Whitewash? Whatever it's called
now. You know, the scandal thing."
"I'd rather talk about health-care reform."
"Yeah, that's him," the former White House reporter with the silly hairpiece
said.
The President continued his statement. "I would just like to assure the
American people that, despite this tragedy, the governing of this nation will
go on uninterrupted. And I would also like to express my sincere condolences
to the family of the slain agent. Thank you."
"You said there would be questions," a reporter complained.
"I've answered all the questions I intend to answer," the President snapped.
"Does that mean you don't know the answers?"
"Just one more," the President said wearily.
"Don't do it, Mr. President," the chief of staff whispered.
Too late, the President pointed to the person who had spoken.
"Will the Vice President take over your duties during the period of
uncertainty over your identity?"
Page 44
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"There's is no uncertainty! I know who I am. And the American people know who
I am!"
"Is that a yes or a no?" asked one reporter.
"That will be all. That will be all," the chief of staff said, leading the
fuming President away from the podium.
"Hey, that will make a great instant-poll question," another piped up. "Let's
let the American public decide."
An armored limousine slithered under the shadow of Air Force One and the
President was pushed into it for the sixty-yard trip to Marine One, which was
whining into life.
Agents surrounded the President when he emerged, forming a moving diamond
around him. He was jostled up the stairs like a convicted felon being hustled
off to court.
When Marine One lifted into the air, Secret Service Special Agent Mince
Capezzi breathed a long, whistling sigh of relief.
Once they reached Crown, the President would be safe.
Chapter 12
The network news vans and satellite trucks had been parked on the 1600 block
of Pennsylvania Avenue before the White House for over an hour now, their
microwave dishes pointed in all directions. Cameramen were perched on the van
roofs, panning tripod-mounted video cameras back and forth.
Roving news crews prowled the perimeter fence, blocked from entering by
uniformed Secret Service agents.
"We need a statement from the First Lady," a reporter called over the fence.
"The First Lady isn't making any statements right now."
"She's gotta make a statement. She's the new Jackie Kennedy. She owes it to
the nation to share her pain with ordinary citizens."
The Secret Service agent bit his lips. The word from the West Wing was to
stonewall the press until an official statement was put out.
"Sorry," he said.
Frustrated, reporters descended on citizens and tourists who were gathering on
Pennsylvania Avenue, weeping and stunned.
"What does the Presidential loss mean to you personally?"
"Where were you when you heard the news?"
"I need a shot of someone crying," a reporter called out. "If you've got tears
in your eyes, raise your hand and I'll put you on the BCN Evening News. "
No one raised their hand. But someone threw a rock. It bounced off the
reporter's skull, and for the next ten minutes he became the story as cameras
closed in on him lying on the pavement, bleeding from a gash over one eye,
saying, "Help me. Someone help me."
"Sorry," he was told by his colleagues, "you're news now. We can't help you."
"Can't you bleed a little more?" another colleague requested. "This is kinda
dull. How about a nice painful groan?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl fopke.keep.pl
death. In fact, they have film. And it clearly shows your head being blown
apart in living color."
"That was not me but a Secret Service agent who looks a little like me."
"In other words, a double?" the former White House correspondent said
quickly.
"A decoy," the President snapped back. "Not a double."
"Can you prove that you're the real double and not the dead double?"
The President jerked an angry thumb over his shoulder at Air Force One. "His
brave body is in the process of being unloaded," he said tightly.
"When will we be allowed to film the corpse?"
"You wouldn't be able to broadcast the film. Trust me."
"We telecast the film of you having your head blown apart," a woman reporter
corrected. "Semilive."
"That wasn't me," the President snapped.
"We haven't fully established this yet," another reporter pointed out in a
tone more reasonable than the comment itself.
"Look at me!" the President exploded. "I am the President of the United
States. I am standing here in my own flesh speaking in my own voice. What is
so darn hard to understand?"
"Do you have a comment on Watergate-I mean Whitewash? Whatever it's called
now. You know, the scandal thing."
"I'd rather talk about health-care reform."
"Yeah, that's him," the former White House reporter with the silly hairpiece
said.
The President continued his statement. "I would just like to assure the
American people that, despite this tragedy, the governing of this nation will
go on uninterrupted. And I would also like to express my sincere condolences
to the family of the slain agent. Thank you."
"You said there would be questions," a reporter complained.
"I've answered all the questions I intend to answer," the President snapped.
"Does that mean you don't know the answers?"
"Just one more," the President said wearily.
"Don't do it, Mr. President," the chief of staff whispered.
Too late, the President pointed to the person who had spoken.
"Will the Vice President take over your duties during the period of
uncertainty over your identity?"
Page 44
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"There's is no uncertainty! I know who I am. And the American people know who
I am!"
"Is that a yes or a no?" asked one reporter.
"That will be all. That will be all," the chief of staff said, leading the
fuming President away from the podium.
"Hey, that will make a great instant-poll question," another piped up. "Let's
let the American public decide."
An armored limousine slithered under the shadow of Air Force One and the
President was pushed into it for the sixty-yard trip to Marine One, which was
whining into life.
Agents surrounded the President when he emerged, forming a moving diamond
around him. He was jostled up the stairs like a convicted felon being hustled
off to court.
When Marine One lifted into the air, Secret Service Special Agent Mince
Capezzi breathed a long, whistling sigh of relief.
Once they reached Crown, the President would be safe.
Chapter 12
The network news vans and satellite trucks had been parked on the 1600 block
of Pennsylvania Avenue before the White House for over an hour now, their
microwave dishes pointed in all directions. Cameramen were perched on the van
roofs, panning tripod-mounted video cameras back and forth.
Roving news crews prowled the perimeter fence, blocked from entering by
uniformed Secret Service agents.
"We need a statement from the First Lady," a reporter called over the fence.
"The First Lady isn't making any statements right now."
"She's gotta make a statement. She's the new Jackie Kennedy. She owes it to
the nation to share her pain with ordinary citizens."
The Secret Service agent bit his lips. The word from the West Wing was to
stonewall the press until an official statement was put out.
"Sorry," he said.
Frustrated, reporters descended on citizens and tourists who were gathering on
Pennsylvania Avenue, weeping and stunned.
"What does the Presidential loss mean to you personally?"
"Where were you when you heard the news?"
"I need a shot of someone crying," a reporter called out. "If you've got tears
in your eyes, raise your hand and I'll put you on the BCN Evening News. "
No one raised their hand. But someone threw a rock. It bounced off the
reporter's skull, and for the next ten minutes he became the story as cameras
closed in on him lying on the pavement, bleeding from a gash over one eye,
saying, "Help me. Someone help me."
"Sorry," he was told by his colleagues, "you're news now. We can't help you."
"Can't you bleed a little more?" another colleague requested. "This is kinda
dull. How about a nice painful groan?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]