“Because he was a slave-running bastard. That’s why!” He kissed her soft underbelly.
“Ahh.” She purred, tensed, relaxed.
“And that damn statue’s a symbol of him and his kind and the fact that it still stands proves things haven’t really changed much around here.” G. P.’s lips moved lower.
“We could get a few people some dark night and tear it down . . . down . . . down. . . .”
Minerva thrilled.
“Nope.” G. P.’s voice was muffled. He raised his head slightly. “That would be admitting defeat. What we’ve got to do is give that black angel back his manhood.” He dipped, tongue first.
“Okay. But later . . . later. . . .” Minerva’s hands tangled in his hair.
“All right.” G. P. rose up and impaled her on his lap. “Later. . . .”
“Later!” The rubber-covered finger of Dr. Rex Talley rose up and impaled the President of the United States. “It would be better if you took the call later, Mr. President. To ensure regularity, we must keep to the suppository schedule, and that means that now would be the best time to—”
“I can’t take the call 1ater!” The President cut him off and wriggled free. “This is a hot-line call to the Kremlin.” The President pulled up his pants and sat down on the edge of the massage table. “And I put it through myself,” he told Dr. Talley. “It’s crucial, so you just stand by and wait until I’m through.” He picked up the telephone and put it on his lap. A moment later it buzzed, signifying that the call had been put through.
“Mr. Premier!” the President said, without preamble. “Why did you double-cross me in Paris?”
“You know the answer to that, Mr. President.”
“All I know is that in secret talks yesterday afternoon the North Vietnam delegation agreed to recognize Saigon publicly. An announcement was to be made at the start of the talks today. Instead of which our chief negotiator in Paris has informed me that the North Vietnam delegation just walked out on the talks and charged the United States with bad faith. I demand an explanation, Mr. Premier!”
“Oh? Do you? Well, then, you shall have one, Mr. President. My government prevailed upon the North Vietnamese to take the action of which you speak. That is your explanation!” The premier’s voice was icy with anger.
“But why?”
“You dare to ask me that, Mr. President? After your betrayal in the matter of Ivan Relevant!”
“Betrayal?” The President was genuinely puzzled. “But Relevant’s on his way to Moscow. That’s what we agreed.”
“The plane has been hijacked!”
“Hijacked? But who—”
“Who? The Duchy of Luxembourg, perhaps? Come now, Mr. President! Do not take me for a fool!”
There was a long pause. Then—- “I’ll get back to you, Mr. Premier.”
“Be quick, Mr. President.”
There was no mistaking the threat in the Russian premier’s voice. The President swallowed hard as he hung up the phone.
Dr. Rex Talley took the telephone from the President’s hands and set it down on a side table. “Brace yourself, Mr. President,” he instructed.
Lying facedown on the massage table, the President braced himself. Delicately, Dr. Talley opened the flap of the old-fashioned presidential underwear and inserted a suppository. The President winced. “Talley,” he grunted, “you have cold hands!”
“I’m sorry, Mr. President.”
“Sorry! Sorry! What good is sorry! Do something about it! Hold your hands over a Bunsen burner or something, for Christ’s sake! Things are bad enough without having my hemorrhoids iced!”
“All done, Mr. President.” Dr. Talley buttoned the flap and patted the presidential rump soothingly.
The President got to his feet and pulled up his trousers again as Dr. Talley exited. When he was gone, the President dialed the phone quickly. “Aaron,” he said, when the buzzing was answered, “what the hell is going on?”
“I beg your pardon, Mr. President?”
“Fm talking about this Russian plane we hijacked.”
“I don’t know anything about it, Mr. President.”
“You’re the Secretary of State, aren’t you? If you don’t know, who does?”
“Might I suggest you try the Secretary of Defense, Mr. President?”
“Damn!” The President slammed down the phone and dialed again. “Benedict!” he shouted into the mouthpiece. “Did you authorize the hijacking of a plane from Ambarchik?”
“Ambar—-what, Mr. President?” the Secretary of Defense replied.
“Siberia, you ninny! We’ve hijacked a plane from there, and I bloody well want to know who issued the order!”
“It wasn’t me, Mr. President. I’ve been home playing Monopoly all afternoon with Alger of U.S. Steel and Swift of Alloys Unlimited and the Merriwell brothers of—”
“Monopoly!” The President broke off the call with a savage karate chop to the telephone. “Goddam military-industrial complex!” He dialed a third time. “Oswald,” he said through clenched teeth when the call was answered, “did you authorize the hijacking of a Russian transport plane?”
“I don’t believe so, Mr. President.”
“You don’t believe so! What the hell do you mean? Either you did, or you didn’t! Christ, Oswald! You’re the head of the CIA! You ought to know whether you issued the order or not!”
“Offhand, I don’t know anything about it, Mr. President.”
“ ‘I don’t know anything about it, Mr. President.’ ” The President mimicked him. “You too!” he fumed.
“I thought we’d agreed never to mention that again, Mr. President.”
“What? Mention What? What are you babbling about, Oswald?”
“The U-2, Mr. President. You said--” “The U-2? The U-2? Dammit, Oswald, I told you I never wanted to hear about that again. Why do you pick now of all times to bring it up?”
“I didn’t bring it up, Mr. President. You did.” Oswald’s voice sounded sulky.
“If you don’t stop with these irrelevancies, Oswald, I’m going to fire you. So help me I will!”
“Fire me, Mr. President? You’re just upset, Mr. President. After all, Strom--” Oswald deliberately left it hanging there.
“I didn’t mean it, Oswald.” The President backtracked hastily. “I was just trying to drive home to you how urgent this situation is.” The President’s tone was placating. “Please. Just check out this hijacking business and get back to me quickly.”
“Of course, Mr. President. May I ask what the urgency is?”
“It’s personal, dammit!” The President fought a sudden spasm as the suppository took effect.
“I understand, Mr. President. You know, I was discussing your problem with my brother-in-law Hubert, the druggist, and he suggested —”
“Not now, Oswald!” the President interrupted. “Just check out the hijacking and get back to me. Quickly!” The President hung up and raced for the privy.
He was still there when Oswald called back. “What have you found out?” the President asked.
“Hubert says a solution of royal jelly and —”
“Oswald! I’m grateful. Really I am. But right now would you just tell me what’s happening with that Russian transport.”
“Of course, Mr. President. Nothing to worry about. That situation is under control.”
“What does that mean, Oswald? ‘Under control?’ ”
“Well, Mr. President, a squadron of Russian aircraft is pursuing the plane. We don’t know whether they’ll attack or not. But if they do, the Joint Chiefs will be ready.”
“ ‘Ready?’ ” The President turned pale on the potty. “Just what do you mean ‘ready,’ Oswald?”
“Strategic Air Command has three bomber squadrons on full alert,” Oswald announced proudly. “Their nuclear bombs will be unloaded within three minutes, seven-point-two seconds of any Russian attack.”
“Oswald! What the hell are you trying to do? Start a war with the Russians?”