EIGHT
The theater crowd moved as rapidly as possible toward the doors, now held open by the ushers. It was hard to tell if their eagerness was a desire to escape the auditorium or the real need to refresh themselves, soothe parched throats or relieve the traumas they’d just experienced.
At length the Miller party passed trough the doors only to face a new spectacle. They found themselves in a huge room which brought back vivid memories of another party--a very recent one. For they were surrounded by the same splendor they’d seen in the great ballroom of THE Movie. The rich, light colored wainscoted paneling was adorned with guilt baroque carvings. Opulent chandeliers glittered and danced in their own light.
Some felt a moment of uneasiness as they stepped into the opulent room. This quickly passed when they caught sight of the refreshment tables, heavily laden with all sorts of gourmet delights. Carved ice-statues stood guard over dishes of lobster, crab, caviar. exotic cheeses and meats of all kinds caught both the eye and appetite of the crowd. It was apparent to this sophisticated assembly they were being treated to the best of food and attention. Most were impressed. In fact one congressman commented to Roger Bracken:
“Where on earth did they get all this? I haven’t seen such a lavish array of food since the inaugural over three years ago. Must be black market.”
The legislator didn’t see the sharp look Senator Bracken gave him at his last remark.
As the Millers approached the table, a voice called out:
“Oh, Doctor---Mrs. Miller?”
Hurrying toward them as well as he could manage through the large crowd was the movie buff. Mr. Amos Parker. Sharon who had been wearing a rather anxious expression, brightened when she saw him.
“Mr. Parker, I see you survived the ordeal,” she laughed.
“Yes, my dear Mrs. Miller...although I must admit it was a bit touch and go there for a while” He appeared a bit breathless from his struggle to reach them and made an effort to catch his breath as he bubbled over with excitement. His eyes were shining with delight. “But, have you ever seen such a movie?! I do think it was incredible--the most impressive filmever”
His eyes! Once again Kirk was stricken by the something unknown that lurked behind Parker’s eyes. The feeling was even stronger now than the first time. Perhaps it was the brightness of the ballroom lights or the weird experience they’d just been through. Still, Kirk felt there was more to this Mr. Parker than he wanted them to know. This troubled Kirk for a moment. He never suspected another human being without reason.
There was something out of date about Parker’s impeccable appearance. Not just his tuxedo. There was also an old-fashioned sort of continental air about him. And the way he spoke. One couldn't say it was actually Shakespearian, but there was a lilt and cadence to his phrasing that made one think of another age or culture.
Sharon and Mr. Parker were still enthusing about THE Movie. Suddenly their conversation stopped and they were looking at him. Kirk realized he was expected to make some comment. He felt awkward at moments like this. Small talk was nearly impossible and he remained uncomfortable in the presence of the urbane gentleman.
“I...uh...the the film’s concept is really amazing. Part of my work deals with optics. The sophistication of the production indicates an outstanding grasp of the medium. I would certainly like to see their equipment.”
“Perhaps it can be arranged,’ replied Parker. “I’m also rather curious about it.” he turned his attention to Sharon once more. They excluded Kirk and again began to toss about movie trivia as they had earlier. Kirk smiled to himself. For such an intelligent woman, Sharon did enjoy the simple thing of life. He looked at his watch. it was ten thirty--twenty-five minutes since the start of the intermission. When would the movie resume?
Mrs. Jackson stood nearby, holding a conservative plate of goodies and delicately trying everything. She’d just dipped a cracker into a small sample of what looked like black beads. She took a taste and made a wry face. Kirk had been watching her with delight, and commented.
“Caviar. It has an odd taste, doesn’t it?”
“It most certainly does,” agreed the black woman with a smile. “Personally, ah prefer black-ahd peas. but the way things are nowadays, ah ‘spect they’re as ‘spensive as this cayveear and ‘bout as rare.
Kirk laughed and nodded in agreement.
Henry Jackson spied Roger Bracken in the crowd and pushed his way though the throng to reach him. Bracken was about to speak to John Shipley when the black Under Secretary joined them.
“Senator Bracken, excuse me. I’m Henry Jackson, Undersecretary to the Secretary of Agriculture.”
“Well--ere, how do you do---ah, Henry?” Roger Bracken turned on his famous smile and extended his hand in a firm greeting. Henry Jackson was so overwhelmed to be in the company of the famous Senator from New York and the legendary Senate Majority Leader, he failed to notice Bracken’s eyes were not smiling. In fact Bracken resented the intrusion. Half knowing the reason for it, the younger senator was trying to think of a smooth way to delay their meeting.
“Henry, this is Senator John Shipley of Virginia. John, Henry Jackson.”
The southern Senator returned Jackson’s handshake with genuine warmth. Though many southerners were still notoriously bigoted, he was not one of them. His whole philosophy of statesmanship was based on the equality of men, regardless of color.
Jackson was flattered by the attention of two such powerful political leaders, but then he remembered the reason for his being there and plunged right in. “Senator Bracken, the Secretary sends his greetings and regrets not being able to attend tonight.
“Yes, he missed quite a show. Ah, I wonder--Henry, I would like to talk to you more about the department. Perhaps we could get together after the movie tonight.”
Henry Jackson was somewhat taken aback by this. He really wanted to deliver his message and then query the senator about an open position to further his career. But not wishing to make any waves, he acquiesced and backed off.
“Of course Senator Bracken, until later then, -- Senator Shipley.” the distinguished looking black man nodded to the senators and returned to the group near the refreshment table.
Senator Shipley registered some puzzlement about the exchange between Jackson and Bracken. What did Bracken have to do with the Department of Agriculture? He shrugged it off. He’d been in the political game long enough to know the Senate’s long arm reached into every department of government.
“John, I do want to talk to you for a few moments,” said Bracken. They were standing in a relatively quiet corner to one side of the crowd.
“Of course Roger,” Shipley smiled at his former protégé’.
“I’ve been having some pangs of conscience,” Bracken began, smiling. “If such a thing is possible in politics. You were the real force that pulled me into government, the one person who inspired me to become a public servant. I just don’t feel I’ve repaid you very generously with this battle for desalinization.”
“I’m sure you’re doing what you think best,” answered the older senator. “But if you looked a little deeper into the Project, you might recognize it’s value.”
“Sorry, John, I still firmly believe rainmaking went out with the Indians,” chuckled Bracken.
At that moment, Mrs. Shipley came up to her husband, she laid a hand on his arm saying:
“Have you had your refreshments John?”
“Sorry my dear, Roger and I got to talking.”
“Shame on the both of you. This is an evening for relaxation. You won’t mind if I run off with my husband, Roger?”
“Certainly not, dear lady. And I humbly apologize for bringing up business at a time like this.”
“You are forgiven,” the lady smiled benignly at him.
They excused themselves and started toward the lavish buffet. Their trip was interrupted many times by friends and acquaintances. The Shipleys, always a popular pair with young and old alike, had been in Washington for over a half century and nearly everyone knew them.
As they came up the the Millers, Kirk introduced them to Amos Parker. The old movie fan beamed at the famous political leader as if he was one of the many movie stars as he babbled on about THE Movie. Once the amenities were out of the way, the Shipley’s confined their conversation to Kirk, allowing Sharon to devote herself to Parker and their favorite subject of horror movies.
Sharon said. “I’ve always been partial to THE THING. Now there was a real classic in horror.”
“I believe that film would come under the category of scienc-fiction, my dear,’ corrected the movie buff. “But you are correct, it certainly was horrifying. Personally, my favorites are the series produced by Roger Corman with Vincent Price, especially those loosely based on the Edgar Allen Poe stories. Did you ever see THE RAVEN-- Hilariously gruesome”
Kirk looked impatiently at his watch once again. Actually he was more concerned about the two AM test at the Project. He certainly intended to be there.
The laughter and noise in the room had risen to a crescendo when one of the doors opened to the left and the head usher called out to the crowd.
“You’re attention PLEASE! ATTENTION!” He was practically screaming to make himself heard. It took a while for the crowd to quiet down so he could be heard over the din. Even then he had to shout.
“Ladies and gentlemen. I regret to inform you a temporary equipment failure has caused a delay in the start of the second half of THE Movie. However, there are plenty of refreshments, so enjoy yourselves. We hope ot have the trouble repaired shortly.”
There was a barely perceptible pause in the gaiety as the guests went back to their partying. After all, who cared about a movie when they were all having such a great time. And behind their alcohol dulled senses, perhaps they felt it really made more sense to gorge themselves on the fantastic food and drink than be subjected to more of the agonies of THE Movie.
Suddenly a shot rang out in the room. Startled by this new, unexplained explosion, everyone jumped and looked around. It had certainly been a gunshot, there was no mistaking the sound. With eyes bulging in fright and panic, someone screamed.
“She’s dead! She’s dead! There!” and a woman pointed to an inert body in the center of the floor. An elegant, satin gowned matron lay crumpled on the floor. Her eyes wide open, a look of surprise was written on her face. There was a bullet hole in the center of her forehead.
Another shot rang through the room. This sent the great crowd into action. Washington’s elite smelled the acrid odor of death and rushed about like so many stampeding cattle. The next instant the mob broke in the middle and became two tidal waves rolling in opposite directions toward the ends of the great room. Pushing and shoving away fromthe body in the middle of the floor. They screamed and bellowed at each other to get out of the way, like a school of smaller fish being threatened by some giant unseen shark.
The room was charged with terror. A woman was dead and no one wanted to be next. Some of the more intoxicated were pushed to the floor and trampled. their screams of pain and fear only added to the panic. As the waves of humanity crashed against the entrance doors, there were more screams. Shrieks of fear as they discoverd the doors were locked. Cabinet members, senators and congressmen alike pounded on the portals, demanding to be let out; yet the doors were closed-- bolted from the outside.
Word went through the crowd that they were imprisoned within the room. Those few who’d remained relatively calm began to react and the pandemonium increased. Suddenly a powerful amplified voice beat above the noise.
“Silence!”
It took a few moments for the command to register.
“Quiet! Settle down Please!” the commanding voice called out once more.
It took some time, but at last the crowd became comparatively silent. There was only the sound of heavy breathing and the whimpering of those who had been hurt in the crush. They all turned to face the source of the command. The great room looked like a battle field. Those who’d been knocked off their feet scrambled for footing and some of their neighbors regained enough of their senses to help them
Sally Merriweather was one of the unfortunates who had been crushed by the mob. She had been knocked unconscious to the floor. UPN coworkers Sally and Jim Paulson were a close couple. They hadn't’ seen each other for weeks and had been celebrating heavily. Paulson, a two-fisted drinker, was feeling no pain during the panic rush to the doors. Now Sally was seriously injured and the shock of seeing her in such distress sobered the reporter. He knelt, took her head tenderly in his arms and looked around desperately for help. The situation was filled with such ominous implications that Paulson, usually so suave and sophisticated, found himself utterly at sea.
In the midst of the confusion, several individuals in white uniforms entered from the far end of the hall and started toward the victims on the floor. Each carried a small box that looked like an attaché’ case. In their free hand they held metallic batons attached to the boxes by cables. The men approached the casualties and the victims eyed them suspiciously, afraid their equipment might bring them more harm.
Paulson made an attempt to shield Sally from this new threat, but a couple of white coats drew him to one side, holding him gently but firmly . One of the men moved to stand over Sally. His knuckles whitened slightly as he squeezed the handle of the wand and a quiet buzzing sound could be heard. He waved the wand over her still form, and seconds later, Sally opened her eyes. She yawned as if awakening from a long sleep. Paulson was released so he could join her. As he knelt beside her, Sally finally focused on him. She smiled sleepily and made an effort to rise, but he restrained her.
“No, please don’t try to move, Hon.” Paulson told her tenderly. “You were pretty badly mauled when these fools stampeded.” and he gestured to the frightened group around them.
Sally looked up and focused her eyes on the man standing over her. As she turned her face to him, he aimed the point of the wand at the cut on her head which had stopped bleeding, but still looked dangerous. She was about to speak when the man again squeezed the wand and it appeared to weave an invisible bandage over the wound so it completely vanished. Paulson’s jaw dropped in amazement.
“It’s perfectly all right, Mr. Paulson. Miss Merriwether is fine now,” one of the white coated technicians told him in a kindly tone.
One by one, the wounded were tended to in the same fashion. Much to everyone’s surprise, the body of the murder victim, rose to her feet, dusted herself off, and removed the patch of make-up made to resemble a bullet hole. With a haughty toss of her head, she joined a smaller group gathered at the far end of the room.
The panic-stricken crowd at the doors hadn’t noticed them before. They’d been too involved with their own hysteria. By contrast the far group stared calmly back at them, obviously amused by the terror reflected in the faces of the mob at the doors.
There were a few famous figures among the smaller group. a senator or two, some congressmen, secretaries and undersecretaries of this department or that. These great and near great wore strange sardonic smiles.
Kirk, who’d rejoined Sharon and the Shipleys after the panic, stood closest to the group and could clearly see the strange look in their eyes. A look he’d seen somewhere before. The Millers and Shipleys were among the few who’d been troubled, but not panicked by the recent violence.