The Sacred Vault_ A Novel - Andy McDermott [20]
‘Then I hope your security’s up to scratch,’ the President joked. More laughter. ‘This is an incredible exhibition, Dr Wilde.’
‘Thank you, Mr President.’ She felt relieved. Maybe her concerns about the big, jowly former lawyer had been unfounded . . .
‘It’s good to see that all the funding the US government has put into the IHA is finally producing some visible returns,’ he continued, squashing Nina’s optimism like a bug. ‘After all, these are turbulent economic times. The American taxpayer needs to know the money is being spent wisely.’
‘Well, I’m not American, but I pay taxes here,’ said Eddie, moving closer to Nina, ‘and I think the IHA’s pretty good value. Especially as it does all kinds of useful stuff that most people don’t hear about. Mr President,’ he added.
Cold looks came from the presidential entourage, but Cole gave him a smile; one that didn’t quite reach to his eyes. ‘Of course it does, Mr Chase. By the way, it’s interesting to meet you and Dr Wilde at last. My predecessor was very well acquainted with you both.’
‘Hopefully we, ah, lived up to your expectations,’ said Nina, feeling a nervous knot form in her stomach. That Cole’s reply was just another empty campaign smile only made it tighter.
Instead, he turned to his followers. ‘A great exhibition, wouldn’t you agree? Let’s hear it for Dr Wilde and the IHA.’ There was a ripple of polite applause. ‘Now, unfortunately I have to move on to my next engagement - keeping a roomful of lawyers waiting for their five-hundred-dollar-a-plate dinner is a surefire way to get sued!’
The group’s laughter as he led it away seemed genuine this time, lawyer jokes always universally appreciated. The Secret Service followed, moving towards the main entrance in unison as if someone had tilted a tray of ball bearings. Someone loudly announced that the President was departing, and the other guests broke off from their conversations to applaud him as he left. Nina joined in, though Eddie’s response was more of a slow handclap.
‘I didn’t like what he was implying about the IHA,’ said Nina to her husband, concerned. ‘You think he’s going to cut our budget?’
‘Who knows what any politician’s thinking? Except for “I want more power”, obviously.’
‘I assure you, we’re not all like that,’ said a voice behind them. Nina winced a little when she realised to whom it belonged: Roger Boyce, the mayor of San Francisco.
‘I’m sure you’re not, Mr Mayor,’ she said. She had been introduced to Boyce before the President’s arrival, and knew a little about him by reputation: the latest in a long line of Democratic incumbents, and by all accounts a fresh-faced poster boy for political correctness. He was accompanied by a group of people who, Nina guessed from the number of outfits that cost more than her monthly salary, were the VIPs whose invitations had caused her so much hassle the previous day. ‘Eddie was only joking. Weren’t you?’
‘Uh-huh,’ said Eddie, without conviction.
‘Oh, no offence taken,’ said Boyce breezily. ‘It’s all part of the job. You won’t last long as mayor if you’re thin-skinned! But hey, I wanted to thank you and Dr Sharpe for doing such a terrific job with the exhibition. I’m sure it’ll be a huge hit when it opens to the public tomorrow. Just a shame it can’t stay here for longer.’
‘Fifteen other cities might get mad if it did,’ Rowan said. ‘But I think it’ll get the tour off to a great start.’
‘Well, what better place to start anything than San Francisco?’ asked Boyce, gesturing at the fog-shrouded street beyond the windows. Nina almost replied ‘New York’, but suppressed the urge. ‘Have you had a chance to check out our city?’
‘Not yet,’ said Eddie. ‘Looking