The truth was that Ben Cohn was not as cynical as he sounded. He had covered Paul Ellison’s career from the beginning, and while it was true that he had not been impressed at first, as Ellison moved up the political ladder Ben Cohn began to change his opinion. This politician was nobody’s yes-man. He was an oak in a forest of willows.
Outside, the sky exploded into icy sheets of rain. Ben Cohn hoped the weather was not an omen of the four years that lay ahead. He turned his attention back to the television set.
“The presidency of the United States is a torch lit by the American people and passed from hand to hand every four years. The torch that has been entrusted to my care is the most powerful weapon in the world. It is powerful enough to burn down civilization as we know it, or to be a beacon that will light the future for us and for the rest of the world. It is our choice to make. I speak today not only to our allies, but to those countries in the Soviet camp. I say to them now, as we prepare to move into the twenty-first century, that there is no longer any room for confrontation and that we must learn to make the phrase one world become a reality. Any other course can only create a holocaust from which no nation would ever recover. I am well aware of the vast chasms that lie between us and the iron curtain countries, but the first priority of this administration will be to build unshakable bridges across those chasms.”
His words rang out with a deep, heartfelt sincerity. He means it, Ben Cohn thought. I hope no one assassinates the bastard.
In Junction City, Kansas, it was a potbellied stove kind of day, bleak and raw, and snowing so hard that the visibility on Highway 6 was almost zero. Mary Ashley cautiously steered her old station wagon toward the center of the highway, where the snowplows had been at work. The storm was going to make her late for the class she was teaching. She drove slowly, careful not to let the car go into a skid.
From the car radio came the President’s voice: “…are many in government as well as in private life who insist that America build more moats instead of bridges. My answer to that is that we can no longer afford to condemn ourselves or our children to a future threatened by global confrontations, and nuclear war.”
Mary Ashley thought: I’m glad I voted for him. Paul Ellison is going to make a great President.
Her grip tightened on the wheel as the snow became a blinding white whirlwind.
In St. Croix, a tropical sun was shining in a cloudless, azure sky, but Harry Lantz had no intention of going outside. He was having too much fun indoors. He was in bed, naked, sandwiched between the Dolly sisters. Lantz had empirical evidence that they were not truly sisters. Annette was a tall natural brunette, and Sally was a tall natural blonde. Not that Harry Lantz gave a damn whether they were blood relatives. What was important was that they were both expert at what they did, and what they were doing made Lantz groan aloud with pleasure.
At the far end of the motel room, the image of the President flickered on the television set.
“…because I believe that there is no problem that cannot be solved by genuine goodwill on both sides, the concrete wall around East Berlin and the iron curtain that surrounds the other Soviet Union satellite countries must come down.”
Sally stopped her activities long enough to ask, “Do you want me to turn that fuckin’ thing off, hon?”
“Leave it alone. I wanna hear what he has to say.”
Annette raised her head. “Did you vote for him?”
Harry Lantz yelled, “Hey, you two! Get back to work.”
“As you are aware, three years ago, upon the death of Romania’s President, Nicolae Ceau§escu, Romania broke off diplomatic relations with the United States. I want to inform you now that we have approached the government of Romania and its President, Alexandras Ionescu, and he has agreed to reestablish diplomatic relations with our country.”