most powerful men in this country. And the country does need him."
But Ken wondered just what she meant by "the country." He turned and headed out of the room.
"Oh, yes, Ken," Katie called back to him. "Check the scandal sheets and see how I'm doing. After the luncheon today, I've got to see that Greek about the munitions swindle he pulled in Britain."
"I thought you were going to let the CIA deal with him."
"Can't. It's too sticky. I think I can get around both the CIA and the Department of Justice. We can use a mind like his and his connections. Get him."
The President smiled, then busied herself with her morning wardrobe, humming a tune.
Rita cast a quick glance at Ken Collins as he was leaving. Then she looked over at Beverly. Katie Babcock was humming a tune, and she rarely hummed or sang. She was always serious and reserved.
"At least she seems happy," Rita whispered aside to Ken at the door.
"It must be love," he winked, not at all serious. "She probably got laid last night."
"What an awful thing to say," Rita shot back, halfway scolding him.
But the humming concerned them both.
He went on, out of earshot from the President. "They say the more stable you are, the less of a chance you have of going under. I can recommend a checkup, but she shouldn't be singing. She'll have the damn tune running through her head all day long. That could cause some problems. If the pressure gets too rough at the briefing, she could lapse. She isn't immune. Nobody is, these days."
He looked concerned.
Rita glowered at his easy concern, mistaking it for insincerity. "You, the expert. Just watch out for her. If you see the signs, let me know. I can buzz a Stalker just in case. We can't have the President of the United States popping out of sight never to be found again."
"Oh, she'd have to be in the presence of the original piece of music being performed. And whatever it is," Ken said, "it will probably be outlawed sooner or later."
They could hear her humming to herself as she walked in and out of the bathroom preparing herself for the day. Her voice had a rich timbre to it and filled the room pleasantly. She seemed very much at ease with herself.
Ken remarked, "Well, it doesn't sound like the blues. To me, anyway."
Rita looked worried. The President did have an ulcer caused by nerves and tension.
Collins patted her affectionately on the shoulder. "Don't worry. The Stalkers are busy, but you're talking about the head honcho in these parts. They'd come running."
"Sure," she said bitterly. "If not for money, then for the attention."
"I don't think they'd do it for the fame. It would put them out of business. They really don't like working with us too much. Most don't like the political mind, and most like to work anonymously." He had a copy of Lanier's report on Albertson Randell. "They say that politicians are sick."
Rita mused. "It's just too bad the blues are illegal now. Just about everything is these days." She coughed. "Even going without a filter-mask on the eastern seaboard."
Outside, they could hear the wind grating against the thick, bulletproof window, as if grains of sand were being tossed around in the air.
Collins frowned, looking out the window. A brown haze concealed any light that the new day was bringing upon Washington. "It's that goddamned aeroplankton again. We're going to get a blow today. I had forgotten the forecast."
He turned. "I do have to get a few things done before Katie gets to the ambassador." He waved at the two aides.
Katie swirled into their midst as he clicked down the hall.
"I like that boy," she said to them. "Might make something out of him before it's all over." She wandered over to her makeup table.
Beverly strolled over. "Katie"—she looked down at the bottles of makeup and fingernail polish—"we can get you a professional for this."
"No," she said, struggling to blink a particle of eyeliner out of her eye. "I've been thinking of giving up the whole thing, anyway. I'm not
But Ken wondered just what she meant by "the country." He turned and headed out of the room.
"Oh, yes, Ken," Katie called back to him. "Check the scandal sheets and see how I'm doing. After the luncheon today, I've got to see that Greek about the munitions swindle he pulled in Britain."
"I thought you were going to let the CIA deal with him."
"Can't. It's too sticky. I think I can get around both the CIA and the Department of Justice. We can use a mind like his and his connections. Get him."
The President smiled, then busied herself with her morning wardrobe, humming a tune.
Rita cast a quick glance at Ken Collins as he was leaving. Then she looked over at Beverly. Katie Babcock was humming a tune, and she rarely hummed or sang. She was always serious and reserved.
"At least she seems happy," Rita whispered aside to Ken at the door.
"It must be love," he winked, not at all serious. "She probably got laid last night."
"What an awful thing to say," Rita shot back, halfway scolding him.
But the humming concerned them both.
He went on, out of earshot from the President. "They say the more stable you are, the less of a chance you have of going under. I can recommend a checkup, but she shouldn't be singing. She'll have the damn tune running through her head all day long. That could cause some problems. If the pressure gets too rough at the briefing, she could lapse. She isn't immune. Nobody is, these days."
He looked concerned.
Rita glowered at his easy concern, mistaking it for insincerity. "You, the expert. Just watch out for her. If you see the signs, let me know. I can buzz a Stalker just in case. We can't have the President of the United States popping out of sight never to be found again."
"Oh, she'd have to be in the presence of the original piece of music being performed. And whatever it is," Ken said, "it will probably be outlawed sooner or later."
They could hear her humming to herself as she walked in and out of the bathroom preparing herself for the day. Her voice had a rich timbre to it and filled the room pleasantly. She seemed very much at ease with herself.
Ken remarked, "Well, it doesn't sound like the blues. To me, anyway."
Rita looked worried. The President did have an ulcer caused by nerves and tension.
Collins patted her affectionately on the shoulder. "Don't worry. The Stalkers are busy, but you're talking about the head honcho in these parts. They'd come running."
"Sure," she said bitterly. "If not for money, then for the attention."
"I don't think they'd do it for the fame. It would put them out of business. They really don't like working with us too much. Most don't like the political mind, and most like to work anonymously." He had a copy of Lanier's report on Albertson Randell. "They say that politicians are sick."
Rita mused. "It's just too bad the blues are illegal now. Just about everything is these days." She coughed. "Even going without a filter-mask on the eastern seaboard."
Outside, they could hear the wind grating against the thick, bulletproof window, as if grains of sand were being tossed around in the air.
Collins frowned, looking out the window. A brown haze concealed any light that the new day was bringing upon Washington. "It's that goddamned aeroplankton again. We're going to get a blow today. I had forgotten the forecast."
He turned. "I do have to get a few things done before Katie gets to the ambassador." He waved at the two aides.
Katie swirled into their midst as he clicked down the hall.
"I like that boy," she said to them. "Might make something out of him before it's all over." She wandered over to her makeup table.
Beverly strolled over. "Katie"—she looked down at the bottles of makeup and fingernail polish—"we can get you a professional for this."
"No," she said, struggling to blink a particle of eyeliner out of her eye. "I've been thinking of giving up the whole thing, anyway. I'm not
Similar Books
The Man from Stone Creek
Linda Lael Miller
Secret Star
Nancy Springer
Drive
James Sallis
Chaos Theory: A Zombie Novel
Rich Restucci
The Backpacker
John Harris
Black Fire
Robert Graysmith
L. Ann Marie
Tailley (MC 6)
No Mere Zombie: Deathless Book 2
Chris Fox
Sisterchicks Say Ooh La La!
Robin Jones Gunn
The Wings of Dreams
Fuyumi Ono