"I would like to make a statement," he began in a somber voice.
"Who are you?" a reporter blurted.
"Looks like the President," a second reporter said.
"But he's supposed to be dead," a third said.
The President ignored the outburst and pressed on. "As you all know, earlier today there was an incident where a shot was fired at the Presidential limousine."
"Mr. President," a reporter asked, waving. "A question, please."
The President ignored him. He opened his mouth to continue his statement.
"Mr. President, why aren't you dead?" the reporter interrupted.
The President looked up to see who had spoken. It was a former White House correspondent famous for his rude questions and bad hairpieces. He was wearing a serious expression despite the utter ridiculousness of his shouted question.
"You are the President of the United States, aren't you?" he added pointedly. "I mean, you're not a double or ringer brought in to calm the nation?"
"You know better than that," the President snapped, dispensing with his address.
"But, sir, with all due respect, how do we know you are indeed the President?"
"Because I just stepped off Air Force One wearing the President's well-known face," the President said, swallowing a bitter "you moron."
"I mean no disrespect, Mr. President, but the networks have reported your death. In fact, they have film. And it clearly shows your head being blown apart in living color."
"That was not me but a Secret Service agent who looks a little like me."
"In other words, a double?" the former White House correspondent said quickly.
"A decoy," the President snapped back. "Not a double."
"Can you prove that you're the real double and not the dead double?"
The President jerked an angry thumb over his shoulder at Air Force One. "His brave body is in the process of being unloaded," he said tightly.
"When will we be allowed to film the corpse?"
"You wouldn't be able to broadcast the film. Trust me."
"We telecast the film of you having your head blown apart," a woman reporter corrected. "Semilive."
"That wasn't me," the President snapped.
"We haven't fully established this yet," another reporter pointed out in a tone more reasonable than the comment itself.
"Look at me!" the President exploded. "I am the President of the United States. I am standing here in my own flesh speaking in my own voice. What is so darn hard to understand?"
"Do you have a comment on Watergate-I mean Whitewash? Whatever it's called now. You know, the scandal thing."
"I'd rather talk about health-care reform."
"Yeah, that's him," the former White House reporter with the silly hairpiece said.
The President continued his statement. "I would just like to assure the American people that, despite this tragedy, the governing of this nation will go on uninterrupted. And I would also like to express my sincere condolences to the family of the slain agent. Thank you."
"You said there would be questions," a reporter complained.
"I've answered all the questions I intend to answer," the President snapped.
"Does that mean you don't know the answers?"
"Just one more," the President said wearily.
"Don't do it, Mr. President," the chief of staff whispered.
Too late, the President pointed to the person who had spoken.
"Will the Vice President take over your duties during the period of uncertainty over your identity?"
"There's is no uncertainty! I know who I am. And the American people know who I am!"
"Is that a yes or a no?" asked one reporter.
"That will be all. That will be all," the chief of staff said, leading the fuming President away from the podium.
"Hey, that will make a great instant-poll question," another piped up. "Let's let the American public decide."
An armored limousine slithered under the shadow of Air Force One and the President was pushed into it for the sixty-yard trip to Marine One, which was whining into life.
Agents surrounded the President when he emerged, forming a moving diamond around him. He was jostled up the stairs like a convicted felon being hustled off to court.
When Marine One lifted into the air, Secret Service Special Agent Mince Capezzi breathed a long, whistling sigh of relief.
Once they reached Crown, the President would be safe.
Chapter 12
The network news vans and satellite trucks had been parked on the 1600 block of Pennsylvania Avenue before the White House for over an hour now, their microwave dishes pointed in all directions. Cameramen were perched on the van roofs, panning tripod-mounted video cameras back and forth.
Roving news crews prowled the perimeter fence, blocked from entering by uniformed Secret Service agents.
"We need a statement from the First Lady," a reporter called over the fence.
"The First Lady isn't making any statements right now."