Mark Spaid - Falcon Down

“Me either, I thought she’d be more… uh… stuffy,” Ariel posed.

“I met the President once,” Warren said.

“Who, Lincoln?” Andy asked laughing.

“I wish and funny, Andy,” Warren said.

“Who’d you meet, Mr. Warren?” Little Wolf asked.

“Teddy Roosevelt. He was in Indianapolis and I hopped a train to hear him speak.”

“What was it like?” Julieta asked.

“He was smart, a genius really; his speeches were deep and he was a devout progressive.”

“What did he sound like?” Justin said.

“He had a high-pitched squeaky voice.”

“Speak softly but carry a big stick and he didn’t have a booming voice?” Andy said.

“No, but he was friendly. In those days you could go right up to the President and shake his hand. I yelled ‘Mr. President’ as he was walking to the train and he stopped, turned around and walked up to me. We talked for a few minutes.”

“About physics?” Dave asked and Warren grinned.

“Yes.”

“Was he interested?”

“Yes, I told him that physics should be emphasized in high school.”

“What’d he say?”

“He said he’d consider it but he thought that business and finance were more important,” Warren said.

“I’m not surprised at that,” Dave said laughing.

“Understandable, physics was barely even a discipline in 1906.”

“Did you ever see him again?”

“No but I wrote him a letter and told him about my work in electromagnetism.”

“And?”

“He wrote back and praised me for my insight and intelligence,” Warren said.

“Where’s the letter?” Dave asked.

“At home in a wooden box on a shelf in my office.”

“Oh yes, the Holy Grail,” Ariel said. The maid has strict instructions to never touch the box. Warren dusts the box and around it so no one else can touch it.” There was laughter and Ariel gave Warren’s arm a squeeze.

“So, you have a letter from TR that no one knows about,” Dave offered.

“Yes.”

“I wonder how many other letters are out there in someone’s possession that’ve never been read by historians.” Dave asked.

“Probably hundreds,” Justin suggested.

“Folks, the President is ready for you,” Johnny Rodriguez said and they got up and followed him. They moved in single file and past six secret service agents along the way. When they got to the red door Johnny stopped. “There are place markers for everyone.” He knocked and another agent opened the door and they walked into a large room (large for a plane). There was an oval table all set up and ready for the group and of course the President.

“Welcome, have a seat, I’m hungry,” Ellen said but they all waited until the President had sat down first… all except Belinda who sat immediately.

“Belinda,” Justin said and she turned and looked at him.

“What?”

“You’re supposed to wait until the President sits first.” Ellen was chuckling and caught Tatiana’s gaze and they both grinned.

“I am?”

“Yes, I thought you knew that. It was in the literature we were sent by the White House,” Justin said.

“Were we supposed to read that?” Ellen broke out laughing as she sat down and motioned for everyone else to sit.

“I’m sorry, Madam President, I didn’t know,” Belinda said.

“That’s alright, before I became governor, I made the meals every night and was the last one to sit.”

“So, this is kind of new to me too. People stand when I come into the room and it makes me feel funny. I’m not sure I deserve it. Now, don’t misunderstand me, the President of the United States deserves it but not Ellen Lexington from Xavier Corners, Maine. It’s a town of four hundred and seventeen with a general store that has everything and the obligatory one church and two bars. So, when I’m in the White House at a state dinner with the Prime Minister of England or the President of Brazil and many others, I feel very out of place. Here on the plane I have suspended the formality. In other words, you’re fine, Belinda.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” Ellen said. “Now, we’re having Maine lobster, I hope that’s okay. Oh, no one is allergic to seafood, are they?” None were and the meal was served.

“Thank you for the meal,” Ariel said.

“You’re welcome,” Ellen said and the table was cleared.

“Madam President, can I take notes?” Justin asked.

“No, let’s don’t do that, it’s too dull. We can do the interview another time.”

“Okay,” Justin said, somewhat daunted.

“Sorry, Mr. Weaver, I didn’t mean to squash you but I just want to get to know everyone first.”

“Whatever you say, Ma’am, after all you’re, the President,” Justin said. Jozette rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Don’t remind me.”

“You don’t like the job?” Andy asked.

“Most of the time, yes but these junkets get old.”

“Do you expect it to go well?” Dave asked.

“I think so; President Deniken is in agreement and in fact it was mostly his idea.”

“Well good luck,” Andy said and Ellen nodded.

“Okay, now I want to learn about all of you.”

“I thought you had information on all of us?” Tatiana said.

“I do but it’s pretty mundane.”

“And, you want the juicy stuff?” Andy asked.

“If you like, yes.”

“Ask away,” Justin said.

“I’ll start with you, Mr. Weaver. I’ve read just about everything you’ve ever written. You’re a very good writer. Your stories are detailed, accurate and also intriguing. You write like a novelist.”

“Thank you.”

“But what interests me most are the adventures you people end up getting into.”

“We do that alright,” Andy said.

“That terrorist attack in Forest Park in St. Louis, The Romley family, Gary Landers and finding Henry Randall.”

“It’s interesting sometimes,” Justin remarked.

“And those letters that you found and your trip to South America and half of you were chased by sharks and the others were fighting to survive the jungle. But the weirdest was Stanley Burnham. I read your book… scary stuff. What a maniac he was and still is. I understand he’s in a secure facility for the criminally insane.”

“I hope it’s secure,” Justin said.

“You’re not certain?”

“With Stanley involved nothing is certain.”

“I see, well let’s hope he stays put. Now, Belinda, the fashion editor. Where do you get all your ideas?”

“I keep up on the literature, I attend shows when I can but most of all I just look in the mirror every day.” Tatiana chuckled and Jozette moaned again. Belinda was Jozette’s best friend but Belinda’s beauty was impossible to compete with for any woman. Jozette herself was beautiful but in the company of Belinda only one of them garnered the attention.

“Ah, well, normally, I’d say that was vain but with your looks I’d say that was very good advice. If every woman looked like you, we’d all be beautiful.”

“Oh, yes, Madam President, they would indeed.” Ellen glanced at Tatiana who grinned and shook her head.

“I heard about your trial for murder.”

“Yes, I did a stupid thing when I pulled out the knife.”

“And your attorney is with us.”

“Yes, Little Wolf, one of my best friends. He is the greatest lawyer ever.”

“Miss Belinda is sometimes a victim of her own hyperboles,” Little Wolf said and Ellen laughed along with everyone else except Belinda because she didn’t know what hyperbole meant.

“Mr. Kline, I’ve read your articles too.”

“They pale next to Justin’s work.”

“I wouldn’t say that. You are two different kind of writers. Mr. Weaver strikes me as a dreamer and an analyzer and you are a technician and a good old-fashioned reporter. Don’t sell yourself short.”