Executive orders - Tom Clancy [231]
This way, Mr. President. Andrea pointed forward. The President's cabin in Air Force One is in the extreme nose on the main deck, where there are regular, if very plush, seats, plus a pair of couches that fold out into beds for long trips. As the principal agent watched, her principal strapped in. Passengers could get away with breaking the rules-the USSS wasn't all that concerned with journalists-but not POTUS. When that was done, she waved to an Air Force crewman, who lifted a phone and told the pilot that he could go now. With that, the engines started up. Jack had mostly lost his fear of flying, but this was the part of the flight where he closed his eyes and thought (earlier in his life he'd whispered) a prayer for the collective safety of the people aboard-in the belief that praying merely for yourself might appear selfish to God. About the time that was finished, the takeoff roll began, rather more quickly than was normal on a 747. Lightly loaded, it felt like an airplane instead of a train pulling out of a station.
Okay, Arnie said, as the nose lifted off. The President studiously did not grip the armrests as he usually did. This is going to be an easy one. Indianapolis, Oklahoma City, and back home for dinner. The crowds will be friendly, and about as reactionary as you are, he added with a twinkle. So you don't really have anything to worry about.
Special Agent Price, sitting in the same compartment for the takeoff, hated it when anybody said that. Chief of Staff van Damm-CARPENTER to the Secret Service; Callie Weston was CALLIOPE-was one of the staffers who never quite appreciated the headaches the Service went through. He thought of danger as a political hazard, even after the 747 crash. Remarkable, she thought. A few feet aft, Agent Raman was in an aft-facing seat watching access forward, in case a reporter showed up with a gun instead of a pencil. There were six more agents aboard to keep an eye on everyone, even the uniformed crewmen, and a platoon of them standing by in each of the two destination cities, along with a huge collection of local cops.
At Tinker Air Force Base in Oklahoma City, the fuel truck was already under USSS guard, less someone contaminate the JP to go into the presidential aircraft; it would remain so until well after the 747 returned to Andrews. A C-5B Galaxy transport was already in Indianapolis, having ferried the presidential automobiles there. Moving the President around was rather like transporting the Ringling Brothers, Barnum & Bailey Circus, except people generally didn't worry about people trying to assassinate the man on the flying trapeze.
Ryan, Agent Price saw, was going over his speech. That was one of his few normal acts. They were almost always nervous about speeches-generally not so much stage fright as concern for the content spin. The thought made Price smile. Ryan wasn't worried about the content, but was worried about blowing the delivery. Well, he'd learn, and his good fortune was that Callie Weston, administrative pain in the ass that she was, wrote one hell of a speech.
Breakfast? a steward asked now that the aircraft was leveled off. The President shook his head.
Not hungry, thanks.
Get him ham and eggs, toast, and decaf, van Damm ordered.
Never try to give a speech on an empty stomach, Callie advised. Trust me.
And not too much real coffee. Caffeine can make you jumpy. When a President gives a speech, Arnie explained for this morning's lesson, he's-Callie, help me out here?
Nothing dramatic for these two today. You're the smart neighbor coming over because the guy next door wants your advice on something he's been thinking about. Friendly. Reasonable. Quiet. 'Gee, Fred, I really think you might want to do it this way,' Weston explained with raised eyebrows.
Kindly family doctor telling a guy to go easy on the greasy food and maybe play an extra round of golf-exercise is supposed to be fun, that sort of thing, the chief of staff explained on. You do it all the time in real life.
Just do it this morning in front of four thousand people, right? Ryan asked.