[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

himself at the East Gate. He took a deep breath and tried to steady his
quivering limbs. It was the most nervous he had been since he took Pamela Sue
Hess to the high school prom back in 1967. It had been his first and only
date. He didn't even get a good-night kiss.
Crossing against the traffic, Orville Rollo Fletcher shook off one of his
black Santa mittens and dug his blue plastic inhaler from a voluminous coat
pocket.
Nervously uncapping it, he brought the square plastic nozzle to his open mouth
and pumped the cartridge once. A steroid jet moistened his drying tongue, and
his nose and taste buds both quivered before the very unfamiliar taste and
smell.
And through Orville Rollo Fletcher's eyes, the world began to change ....
WHEN THE WHITE HOUSE East Gate was opened, the Washington press corps stormed
through it like lemmings seeking the sea. The uniformed Secret Service could
hardly pass them through the gate fast enough.
Barred from entering, the White House press corps had chained themselves to
the fence all along Pennsylvania Avenue in protest.
Up on the platform, the President of the United States looked at his watch
while the First Lady fumed.
"Where's that damn Santa?" she said through tight teeth. "I need him to
represent traditional Western Christian values."
"Watch your language. You never know how many shotgun mikes are out there
pointed at us."
Beside them, the White House Christmas spruce loomed up stark and grim. No
lights burned in the darkness created by dousing the protective floodlights on
the White House facade and throughout the grounds, and the tree's trimmings
were indistinguishable.
"I told that agency to have him here at eight sharp. The press is getting
restless. They want to ask you a ton of questions."
The President turned to Secret Service Special Agent Vince Capezzi beside him
and said, "When I light the tree, you alert Marine One. After I've spoken my
piece, tell them to take off. That will give us enough time to get to the
South Lawn and make a quick getaway."
"Yes, sir," said Capezzi.
On the other side of the podium, standing behind the Chief Executive and out
of camera range, Remo Williams hovered worriedly, scanning the crowd, looking
toward the high rooftops of the Treasury to the east and Executive Office
Building to the west, where Secret Service countersnipers crouched behind
their nightvision scopes.
It was the worst possible exposure for the President. But there was nothing
anyone could say or do to convince the President not to go through with the
ceremony. The only good thing about it was the fact that Marine One would
pluck the President from the South Lawn and to the relative safety of Air
Force One unannounced, and therefore before anyone could create a problem.
Once the President was back in Boston, there would be an entirely new
headache, as far as Remo was concerned.
By 8:14 the rent-a-Santa hadn't shown, and the President signaled for the
ceremony to begin. He stepped up to the dual microphone on the portable podium
emblazoned with the Presidential seal.
"My fellow Americans," the President said without preamble. "In this season of
joy and caring, I want to convey to you all the gratitude myself and my wife
feel to be here with you-especially in light of the tragedy that nearly befell
the office yesterday. I want you to know that no danger, no peril, will sway
myself or the First Lady from prosecuting the cause of universal health care
to the fullest. To symbolize the universality of our cause, and the diversity
of the America we serve, I hereby inaugurate the Christmas season by the
lighting of this magnificent tree."
The President and the First Lady laid hands on the lever set on a table beside
Page 105
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
the podium. In unison, they threw it.
The magnificent blue spruce lit up like a crazy Roman candle trying to blast
off. Flashbulbs popped. Videocams whirred.
Only when the initial commotion abated did people's eyes begin to register the
uniqueness of the White House Christmas tree.
The brilliant Star of David on top drew the first gasps. As the eye was drawn
down from that, it encountered Kachina dolls, Egyptian ankhs, Kwanzaa candles,
Buddhas, signs of the Zodiac and a solitary plastic poinsettia. Strings of
red-hot chili peppers glowed on every evergreen bough, groaning under the
political weight of inclusiveness.
At the base of the tree, a neon sign flashed seasons greetings in dozens of
alternating languages:
Meri Kurisumasu
Joyeux Noel
Sheng Dan Kaui Le
God Jul
Kellemes Kardcsonyi Unnepeket
Merry Xmas [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]