Ben Bova – Remember Caesar

A boyish grin broke across the secretary of state’s normally dour face. “I’ll phone him right now. He’s still in New York.”

“Do that,” said the president. Then she added, “From your own office.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

The secretary of state trotted off happily, leaving the president alone at her desk in the oval office. With the note still clutched in her shaking hand.

I’ll put the entire White House staff through the wringer, she said to herself. Every damned one of them. Interrogate them until their brains are fried. I’ll find out who’s responsible for this…this…

She shuddered involuntarily.

They got into my bedroom. My own bedroom! Who did it? How many people in this house are plotting against me?

They could have killed me!

I’ll turn the note over to the secret service. No, they screwed up. If they were doing their job right this would never have happened. The attorney general. Give it to the F.B.I. They’ll find the culprit.

Her hands were shaking so badly she could hardly read the note.

Remember Caesar, thou art dust.

That’s all the note said. Yet it struck terror into her heart. They could have killed me. This was just a warning. They could have killed me just as easily as leaving this warning on my pillow.

For the first time in her life, she felt afraid.

She looked around the oval office, at the familiar trappings of power, and felt afraid. It’s like being haunted, she said to herself.

In his apartment in New York, the U.S. ambassador to the United Nations nodded as he spoke to the president’s security advisor.

“That’s good news, Carlos!” said Herbert Muldoon, with a hint of Irish lilt in his voice. “Excellent news. I’m sure the president’s made the right choice.”

He cut the connection with Washington and immediately punched up the number of the U.N.’s secretary general, thinking as his fingers tapped on the keyboard:

It worked! Apara did the job. Now we’ll have to send her to Tehran. And others, too, of course. The mullahs may be perfectly willing to send young assassins to their deaths, but I wonder how they’ll react when they know they’re the ones being targeted.

We’ll find out soon.

The End

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