Foster answered the second question first, “Air Force One is equipped with both an operating theatre as well as an elaborate defence shield which my quick-thinking Security Chief, when told of the threat, knew could be critical to saving both my
life and this presidency. Once the shield was activated, no unauthorised transmission waves—whether infrared, radio, microwave or any other—could break through it to activate the killer implant. With the protection afforded by that shield, Rear Admiral Dr Raymond Jones, the White House Physician, had enough time, using the plane’s emergency medical facilities, first to locate and then extract the tiny apparatus… before it could shoot out its drug dose to kill me.”
As the President stood tall and silent, one of the cameras panned across to the empty seat where, traditionally, the First Lady would be seated.
79
“WAIT TILL THEY arrest that bitch,” Goodman slurred.
“Andy, keep it down, okay?”
“Can’t. Gotta go to the barfroom. Get it? Barf room?”
As the ranger staggered past, Paul Dawkins shook his head as though Andy had the shit hanging out of his pants already. “I don’t know what’s worse,” he told the barman, “what the President’s telling us, or drinking with Andy.”
During the next few seconds of silent congressional anticipation, the TV commentators broadcasting into Daisy’s struggled for banter that was any more intelligent than Andy’s or Paul’s. “An incredible story, Patsy. A lot of Democrats used to laugh about those elaborate defence shields, didn’t they? No more, eh?”
“Kevin, the President’s about to reveal the identity of the hero who made that call. My money’s on Ed Loane. He’s one of America’s true patriots, a Medal of Honour…”
“Isabel Diaz’s husband? You kidding me?”
THE President squared his shoulders. “Two people,” he said, “there are two people on this podium who would have benefited directly… if this second stage of the plot had succeeded. I speak of Madam Speaker, Ms Isabel Diaz, and her husband who, as many of you know, was a four-star general and decorated war hero, General Edwin D. Loane. Ms Diaz, please stand. If you can.” Foster kept his eyes forward. Ed was already on his feet.
The Attorney General, down in the front row, recalled Isabel’s earlier comment: “Now for the public hanging.” What was she thinking?
Davey was trying hard to follow. Whatever was happening, it was bad and, terrified, he shook as he handed Isabel her cane and helped her up.
“Both of these people knew Niki Abbott. She was their friend, or at least an associate. General Loane’s own pharmaceutical company manufactured the devices she secreted…”
Foster let this float for a few moments, until he heard it being sucked in by the intake of breaths around the chamber. Satisfied, he turned his head toward the couple up on the rostrum behind him. “My fellow citizens, I could never bring myself to admit this before but I must acknowledge it now… if Isabel Diaz could have continued her election campaign, I have no doubt she would have won.
“But that didn’t happen, and I was elected. Democratically elected. The object of this treason was to usurp the presidency from me, for her, as though it were her divine right. But, with minutes to spare before I was…,” he took another sip, “… assassinated, I was forewarned… knowing that it would keep me in my office… knowing that it would keep her out of it.”
He turned back to the front and his eyes, tired, slowly scanned the room, “The person who phoned me, my fellow Americans, was Madam Speaker, Ms Diaz herself, only moments before she herself drifted into unconsciousness after the shocking wolf attack she suffered.”
“NO-O-O-O!” howled Andy Goodman, doing his best to emulate one of his wolves. “Fuck no!”
CONGRESS erupted again, high fives being slapped all around the Hall, and not just among relieved Republicans. Spencer threw his head back and almost punched the air himself, but that would have been undignified. And George had leapt to his feet cheering.
“Order! Order!”
During the chaos, the Capitol police officers on the rostrum locked themselves closely around Ed. Subtly, the one directly behind him pulled the General’s arms back and unobtrusively handcuffed him under a cotton cloth of a grey similar to Ed’s suit.
Davey had felt Ed’s hands leave his shoulders. He twisted around but didn’t see the slick manoeuvre nor, of course, could he hear the click of the cuffs. He turned to the front ready to alternate as before between the signing interpreter and trying to read the President’s lips on the TV monitor placed before the rostrum.
“And what I later learnt,” said the President pointing back in Davey’s direction, “was that Ms Diaz only found out about the plot herself because of this wonderful young man who I asked her to arrange to be here on the rostrum with me, and I thank this Chamber for permitting that earlier.” Davey turned around expecting to see somebody behind him but there was only Isabel, Ed and the security people, and he looked back, puzzled.