"Missed what!" screamed Beatrice, spitting the ear out of her mouth and pushing his head away so she could get up on her feet and deliver a more satisfying kick. "Missed what! Missed what? he asks. Missed him!"
"Who, dear?" begged Rubin, trying to find a stronger part of his body to receive the kicks.
"Who? he asks! Who? he asks! And I married this ... this failure. You missed our main enemy. You failed in a Beatrice Dolomo threat."
"But we've threatened everyone."
"This one I really wanted," said Beatrice. "This one is behind everything, every one of our problems."
The President's Oval Office was clear of everyone else when Harold W. Smith entered. He had not been listed on the guest sheet; this time was in the official records as a period of rest for the President.
The first thing the President said was:
"I am not giving in to crooks and frauds."
Smith nodded and sat down without waiting to be invited to do so.
"You're here because America is not for sale. I am not for sale. I will not give in. They may get me. There's a good chance of that. But if the President of the United States caves in to this petty blackmail, then the entire country is for sale."
"I couldn't agree more, sir," said Smith. "Apparently they already are pretty familiar with your security system. Though I agree you can't give up, you also can't do business as usual."
The President took off his jacket and dropped it on his chair. He looked out into the protected garden just outside the Oval Office. No one could see in, a precaution quite necessary in the age of the sniper rifle.
He was not a young man but he had a young spirit, and stamina that would shame men forty years his junior. Ordinarily he was smiling. Now he was mad, but not mad that an attempt had been made on his life. That was part of the job.
The President of the United States was mad because American servicemen had been killed, a senator to whom he had lent his plane so that the man could fly home to his seriously ill wife was dead, and the people he was sure were behind the crash were still playing legal games with him.
"This court system we have is precious, and I wouldn't tamper with it for the world. But sometimes . . . sometimes . . ." said the President.
"What makes you sure it was the Dolomos?" asked Smith. "I am aware of the threats made by Kathy Bowen, aware also that she had to know of the plan to destroy you and Air Force One because she announced it ahead of time. I am also aware that a young woman, a Powie, was used to set up Colonel Armbruster. But do you have the clinching evidence that it was the Dolomos themselves?"
"We have the black box," said the President, referring to the tape recording of the entire flight. "The man who flew that plane into the ground had the mind of a nine-year-old. His mature memory had been wiped out."
"Like the mailroom people who forget what they were working on."
"Like the Secret Service men."
"And this Powie gave Armbruster a letter in a Ziploc bag."
"Exactly."
"A letter in the mailroom. A letter to the pilot," said Smith.
The President nodded.
"So this substance can be transferred on paper. By touch, I imagine. Weren't some of the people who attacked you stricken also by loss of memory?"
The President nodded again.
"What a wonderful way to cover up a trail. Have your hired guns forget everything about who ordered them to do the dirty work."
"All of these people had Poweressence backgrounds, we found out through investigations."
"They forgot, of course," said Smith. "But what about the girl who turned state's evidence?"
"The problem with her was she didn't see the person who gave her the orders."
"How can that be?"
"Poweressence may be all hustle but it is part religious cult. And they have ceremonies. Have you ever read Dolomo's books?" asked the President.
"No," said Smith.
"Neither have I. But the Secret Service is beginning to. Almost all of the nonsense is in his books. Part of the cult is hearing voices in darknesses, among other things including being able to cure yourself through finding pieces of your body that don't hurt. I don't know how it works, but you are going to have to look into it."
"We have, somewhat," said Smith. "We are on their trail, but for another reason. We're after them on this witness program. They have been able to turn witnesses, also by getting them to forget. It's clear now they didn't bribe or threaten. They are using this substance, and this substance, whatever it is, is the danger. I think you have got to change the way you work, Mr. President. That's the first order of business."
"I am not going to change a damned thing for those two frauds. I won't give in."
"I am not asking surrender. Just protect yourself while we nail them."
"I don't know," said the President. "I hate to give even a change in schedule to those two murderous hustlers. I represent the American people and, dammit, Smith, the American people deserve something better than to have - two of those . . . those whatever they are change the presidency. No."
"Mr. President, not only can I not guarantee your safety if you don't change things, I can virtually guarantee you are going to lose to those two. Just for a little white, sir, just for a little while. I think you should make it a definite rule that you do not touch any paper, because that seems to be the device they transfer the substance on. I would also suggest you do not allow yourself to shake hands or get close to anyone but your wife," said Smith. He held up a hand because the President wanted to interrupt.
"Also, sir, I would suggest that you do not use any office cleaned by regular staff. They could leave something around you might touch. I will personally do the cleaning. And if I lose my memory, have someone else you trust do it. Touch nothing. Your touch can destroy you."
"What about you? What happens if you lose your memory, Smith? Who will run your organization?"
"No one, sir. It was designed that way. It will automatically shut down."
"And those two, those specialists you use?"
"The Oriental will happily leave this country. He has always wanted to work for an emperor and doesn't understand what we are doing or why we are doing it. I think he is embarrassed that he works for us. So he won't talk. As for the American, he won't talk out of loyalty to the country."
"Might they sell out? Might they go to some magazine and for money say what they have been doing in the country's name?"
"You mean, can we stop them?"
"Yes. If we have to."
"The answer is no. We can't. But I know we won't have to. Remo loves this country. I don't know exactly how he thinks anymore, but he loves his country. He's a patriot, sir."
"Like you, Smith."
"Thank you, sir. I remember a man we lost a long time ago once said, 'America is worth a life.' I still think so."