here."
14
THEY HAD COCKTAILS brought to the yellow Oval Room. Not
wishing to crease her gown, she stood by the marble mantel and sipped a white
wine while her husband fingered the bronze jousting knights on the gold-inlaid
table.
Miss Hartford arrived at the door. She wore a simple black
gown with straps. As always, it was perfect for her role as social secretary.
"They'll arrive in exactly five minutes."
The President nodded. Amy stood in front of him,
inspecting.
"Last-minute check," she said, patting an errant
lock of his hair and kissing him lightly on the cheek. "Come on now,"
she whispered. "Buck up. You're Paul Bernard starring in State Dinner and featuring the King and Queen of Spain."
"Let the cameras roll," he said, flashing his
best politician's smile. He bent slightly, offering his arm. She took it.
Moving out of the Oval Room to the center hall, they were joined by the Secret
Service men who surreptitiously fell into position.
They walked past the octagonal partners' desk, the antique
lamps, tables, and chairs, and the lovely painting of the woman and her two
children by Mary Cassatt. A young boy and girl. She loved that picture. It
reminded her of herself and her two children when they were young. She wondered
whether she would look back on this White House experience as a happy time. The
question irritated her and she put it out of her mind. Silly, she told herself.
Isn't this, after all, the top of the mountain?
They walked slowly down the red-carpeted steps, hands sliding
along the gold banisters. At the landing they continued through the marbled
foyer, past the gauntlet of resplendent young Marines in full-dress uniforms.
Amy glanced at her husband. He was wearing his public smile
now, the one that reflected unbounded joy, showing off his handsome angled
face. They came out of the front entrance into the glare of the light and
descended the steps, covered by the red ceremonial carpet. The cameras flashed.
The King and Queen drove up in a spit-polished limousine and the Chief of
Protocol darted out of the front seat. He waited until the King and Queen were
clear and the door to the car had slammed shut.
"May I present His Majesty Don Carlos and Her Majesty
the Queen, Mr. President."
The President put out his hand. Cameras flashed and the two
couples exchanged pleasantries. They walked in together and took their places
on the receiving line.
"I've been looking forward to this visit for a long
time," the King said.
"I hope we won't disappoint you, Your Highness,"
Amy responded.
15
ABOVE ALL, THE PADRE KNEW, however carefully one planned,
one could always expect an unforeseen problem. Carmine's uniform had presented
a formidable obstacle. It had been intended that the four men would carry the
liquid explosives on their bodies in long plastic flaps. Because of the extreme
sensitivity of the liquid, it could be detonated by impact. They had tested
exactly how hard this impact might be by dropping a tiny bag of it from a
height of six feet. It had exploded with a surprising thunderclap. It could
also be exploded by a sharp blow from a metal hammer.
The Pencil had found the best boom-boom man on the East
Coast, a safecracker who was a fanatic on the subject and who eagerly lectured
them on "the exciting new advances in explosive technology." He was
tall, with long hair. He wore little round glasses and affected what seemed
like a slight lisping British accent.
"It's the latest trend," the man told them.
"In my business, you have to keep up."
"And you are certain it will pass through all known
detectors?" the Padre inquired.
"Like your own skin. But every new idea spawns an
evasive action and the technology to detect it is coming fast. At the moment
it's clear sailing. Me, I prefer the plastic for my line of work. Not as
unstable. But you can't disguise it like the liquid. And some of the new
detectors can pick up the plastic explosives. Then there's the detonators. No
matter how small they are,
14
THEY HAD COCKTAILS brought to the yellow Oval Room. Not
wishing to crease her gown, she stood by the marble mantel and sipped a white
wine while her husband fingered the bronze jousting knights on the gold-inlaid
table.
Miss Hartford arrived at the door. She wore a simple black
gown with straps. As always, it was perfect for her role as social secretary.
"They'll arrive in exactly five minutes."
The President nodded. Amy stood in front of him,
inspecting.
"Last-minute check," she said, patting an errant
lock of his hair and kissing him lightly on the cheek. "Come on now,"
she whispered. "Buck up. You're Paul Bernard starring in State Dinner and featuring the King and Queen of Spain."
"Let the cameras roll," he said, flashing his
best politician's smile. He bent slightly, offering his arm. She took it.
Moving out of the Oval Room to the center hall, they were joined by the Secret
Service men who surreptitiously fell into position.
They walked past the octagonal partners' desk, the antique
lamps, tables, and chairs, and the lovely painting of the woman and her two
children by Mary Cassatt. A young boy and girl. She loved that picture. It
reminded her of herself and her two children when they were young. She wondered
whether she would look back on this White House experience as a happy time. The
question irritated her and she put it out of her mind. Silly, she told herself.
Isn't this, after all, the top of the mountain?
They walked slowly down the red-carpeted steps, hands sliding
along the gold banisters. At the landing they continued through the marbled
foyer, past the gauntlet of resplendent young Marines in full-dress uniforms.
Amy glanced at her husband. He was wearing his public smile
now, the one that reflected unbounded joy, showing off his handsome angled
face. They came out of the front entrance into the glare of the light and
descended the steps, covered by the red ceremonial carpet. The cameras flashed.
The King and Queen drove up in a spit-polished limousine and the Chief of
Protocol darted out of the front seat. He waited until the King and Queen were
clear and the door to the car had slammed shut.
"May I present His Majesty Don Carlos and Her Majesty
the Queen, Mr. President."
The President put out his hand. Cameras flashed and the two
couples exchanged pleasantries. They walked in together and took their places
on the receiving line.
"I've been looking forward to this visit for a long
time," the King said.
"I hope we won't disappoint you, Your Highness,"
Amy responded.
15
ABOVE ALL, THE PADRE KNEW, however carefully one planned,
one could always expect an unforeseen problem. Carmine's uniform had presented
a formidable obstacle. It had been intended that the four men would carry the
liquid explosives on their bodies in long plastic flaps. Because of the extreme
sensitivity of the liquid, it could be detonated by impact. They had tested
exactly how hard this impact might be by dropping a tiny bag of it from a
height of six feet. It had exploded with a surprising thunderclap. It could
also be exploded by a sharp blow from a metal hammer.
The Pencil had found the best boom-boom man on the East
Coast, a safecracker who was a fanatic on the subject and who eagerly lectured
them on "the exciting new advances in explosive technology." He was
tall, with long hair. He wore little round glasses and affected what seemed
like a slight lisping British accent.
"It's the latest trend," the man told them.
"In my business, you have to keep up."
"And you are certain it will pass through all known
detectors?" the Padre inquired.
"Like your own skin. But every new idea spawns an
evasive action and the technology to detect it is coming fast. At the moment
it's clear sailing. Me, I prefer the plastic for my line of work. Not as
unstable. But you can't disguise it like the liquid. And some of the new
detectors can pick up the plastic explosives. Then there's the detonators. No
matter how small they are,
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