Adams’ Apples
11 Military Maneuvers
THE MOTORCADE FROM ANDREWS Air Force Base into downtown Washington, DC drew significantly less attention than the one in Florida. Motorcades are old hat in the nation’s capital. It’s unusual for so much as a senator from Kentucky to arrive at the Capitol in less than three cars. It was speculated that one particularly obese senator had to be broken up in three parts and was reassembled when his motorcade came to a stop.
At six o’clock on a Monday morning, the United States Government is still hours away from going to work. Jack looked out his window with some excitement as we passed the White House and pulled into the gated underground parking facility of the Executive Office Building behind Blair House. We’d been lightly dressed when we were rerouted and the frigid November air in DC bit into us as we emerged to enter the Presidential Guest House.
At least it was warm.
We, the four doctors, the Adams family, and the Smiths—both the Ramsey Smiths and the two agents—were led to the fourth floor where we all had rooms and some semblance of privacy. The six guest bedrooms shared a living room, dining room, and conference room. We were told meals would be delivered from the kitchen.
“See here, now,” Dr. Ulman finally mustered his indignation into something resembling action. “I object to our summary removal from our jobs in Florida. I administer a large hospital. The doctors have patients to see. I demand that we be returned to Orlando at once.”
“I’m sure the President will tell you when you can return,” Mr. Smith MIB said.
“The President?” Levi squeaked.
While the doctors distracted the agents, Elizabeth and I quickly scouted the bedrooms and took Jack, Evelyn, and Lily into one that commanded a view out the front and across Pennsylvania Avenue to the White House.
“Jack and Evelyn, it appears no one has any real choices here,” I said. “Personally, I don’t know much about raising kids but Elizabeth and I have a high interest. Tell us what you need. We’ll set about seeing to it.”
“We need sleep,” Jack started. He held up the little bag of infant supplies the hospital had assembled. “We also need more baby supplies, including formula and diapers and onesies. Baby blankets. A cradle. We had all this prepared at our home, but nothing is here.”
“And clothes,” Evelyn added. “I’m nearly dead on my feet, but I’m frightfully hungry as well. Could we get breakfast?”
“Let’s see what happens,” Elizabeth said. She picked up the phone on the table by the window. A moment later a voice answered.
“Welcome to Blair House, Mr. Adams. How may we help you?” It hadn’t taken long to get the staff informed of who was staying here.
“This is Dr. Smith. I’m… the nanny. We arrived with limited supplies and have been up all night in transit. Here’s what we need.” She rattled off the list, including breakfast for four. The voice on the other end sounded like these were all typical requests and promised everything within an hour.
“That went well,” I said. “Nanny, eh?” Elizabeth continued to look at the phone as if it weren’t quite real.
“I needed to sound like I was in authority. And they just accepted it.”
“Will you stay with us, Elizabeth? I’m not sure if Lily needs a nanny or that I do. I just know that I’d like you to be near,” Evelyn said. “Jack might need a nanny as well.”
Jack, having spouted out his list of what was needed, had collapsed in a chair and was snoozing with his daughter cuddled against his chest.
“Hmm. Well, I guess that makes me the valet—which is another word for a gentleman’s nanny,” I said. “I need to get word to Ed. He’ll know what I should do next.”
The Smiths and the doctors were still loudly discussing the situation when I slipped into the room and quietly moved our overnight bags to the bedroom next to the Adams family. I got my laptop and returned to the master bedroom without being noticed.
I was listening for the knock at the door to get to room service before the agents could get in the way. Ms. Smith MIB still reached it first, looked out the peephole, and pulled the door open.
“Right this way, please,” I said before she could ask what the porters wanted. “We’ll take breakfast in the front bedroom. All the supplies go there as well. Please be quiet as possible. The baby is sleeping.”
Three porters pushed their way through the room as the doctors and agents stared at the clothing, supplies, cradle, and trolley of food that disappeared through the door.
“Why do they get breakfast and not us?” Dr. Ulman demanded. For the first time since I’d encountered the agents, Ms. Smith MIB laughed.
“Probably because they settled in and ordered it instead of arguing with their hosts. You could be doing the same thing,” she said.
The porters left and the doctors immediately started arguing over the telephone.
“Ba-da-da-dum. Ba-da-da-dum. The Adams Family. This is Dr. Smith,” Elizabeth answered the phone when it rang. “Yes, sir. Of course.” She turned a quizzical look on Jack. “Jack, it’s for you.” She looked like she was suppressing a laugh. We had no idea who would have this number or know we were here. The agents had left, promising the doctors they would be returned to their homes as soon as it could be expedited. The suite had been deathly quiet all afternoon. Jack took the phone.
“Hello?”
“Congratulations on the birth of your new child,” the voice said. “I want you to know the entire nation is celebrating young Lilibeth’s birth. And we have big plans for you, son. Very big plans. Probably the biggest plans we’ve ever made.”
“Who is this?”
“Jack, this is President Muffley. I’m taking time out of my busy day—very busy in the Oval Office, you know—to extend my congratulations. We’ve planned a little press conference for you here at the White House. After that’s done, you’ll be escorted to the Lincoln bedroom where my daughter will be waiting for you to reenact your miraculous conception. Once that’s done, you’ll have a line of pussy around the world waiting for you. It’s a great day for America.”
“Uh… No.”
“Now don’t worry about a thing. We’re getting experts here to help you keep the equipment in top condition. The rest of us can only envy you. You have a good day now and we’ll get started right tomorrow.”
“No!” Jack shouted at the dial tone. “No,” he whimpered.
“No what, Jack?” I asked.
“No, I’m not going to sleep with the president’s daughter. Or anyone else! I’m married. I have a wife and a baby. I’m not going to start sleeping around on her just because I have sperm,” Jack was becoming more and more agitated. “I won’t do it. I’ll cut off my own junk before I start standing stud in the president’s stable. I’ll…”
“Easy, Jack. Easy. There has to be some mistake here. They can’t make you sleep with anyone. But have you seen the president’s daughter?”
“Hasn’t everyone? She made a sex tape the day she turned eighteen,” Elizabeth said. “Now just be calm, Jack. They can’t make you sleep with anyone.”
“Please, Jack?” Evelyn called. “Lily and I need to be held. Won’t you come to bed, honey?” We took that as our cue to leave the family alone for a while.
Elizabeth and I still hadn’t had make up sex for the tiff Saturday morning.
“Here’s the scoop, Ed.” I’d already filed an early report on our abduction by Homeland Security and sequestering at Blair House, complete with the doctors’ objections to being brought along.
“The presses haven’t started running yet. Let’s hear it.”
“The president plans to hold a press conference tomorrow to announce that he intends to have his daughter impregnated by Jack immediately. He told Jack that he’d then have a—and I quote—‘line of pussy around the world’ waiting for him. Jack says he won’t comply. He has no intentions of sleeping with anyone but his wife.”
“The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool,” Ed quoted from As You Like It. “I’d give a nickel to have just one wise man in our government.”
“I think you’d be overpaying, since a wise man would also be a fool.”
“What time is the press conference?”
“His press secretary called to say it would be at nine o’clock and there would be a motorcade from Blair House to the White House. I think that’s all of two blocks,” I chuckled.
“I’m going to withhold this from the AP until the first edition is on the street in the morning. By the time anyone else can run it, the president will be committed. All the press at the conference will be up to speed before he ever opens his mouth. You’re sure Jack will say ‘no’?”
“Absolutely. The level of commitment he has to his wife is an inspiration.”
“Let’s use that line, too. We should leak this to the NRP and NIP so they know before the president makes his speech. Want to bet there’s a protest?”
“You’re good, Ed.”
“Who’s in charge here?” shouted the soldier who stormed into the suite at seven in the morning.
I was sitting with the online edition of the Orlando News and laughing to myself as I sipped my morning coffee.
“I don’t think anyone is,” I said.
“That’s the problem! That’s why there are security leaks! That’s why there are lines of protesters in front of the White House. No one’s in charge. Well, let me tell you, that’s come to an end. Front and center, everyone! Colonel Humphrey Smythe is here to take control. Lieutenant!” he shouted at the man just behind his left shoulder. “Inventory. I want to know who is in this suite, what equipment they have, and how much toothpaste is in their tubes. Get everyone rousted out. It’s reveille, people!”
“None of us are actually in the military, Colonel,” I said. “Can I get you a cup of coffee so you can chill out?”
“And who are you?” The colonel snapped around so fast that the various ribbons and medals hung on his chest sounded like windchimes.
“Ramsey Smith. Nice to meet you, Humphrey.” I held out a friendly hand that the colonel slapped away.
“That’s Colonel to you! What is your function here?”
“Hmm. Good question. I write news stories and try to keep Jack just drunk enough that he doesn’t go crazy. Speaking of which, it’s time for his Bloody Mary.”
“That can’t be. He has an appointment in exactly forty-seven minutes. Get him up, showered, shaved, and in here. You have five minutes. Go!”
“General, you just don’t get it. The press conference isn’t until nine o’clock. It’s a five-minute drive from the front door. That makes it an hour and… uh… forty-one minutes before Jack Adams is required.”
“It’s Colonel! The motorcade will depart from Blair House at eight o’clock. At eight-twenty-nine it will pull in to the portico at the White House.”
“Where is it going for half an hour?”
“A full military parade up Pennsylvania Avenue. It will turn and proceed from the steps of the Capitol along the Mall to the Lincoln Memorial. From there, it will return to the White House, exactly twenty-nine minutes after it left Blair House. Mr. Adams will be escorted to the dining room where he will breakfast with the president and his family. Breakfast will end at eight-fifty-seven. The president and Mr. Adams will then walk the one hundred seventy steps to the press briefing room where they will enter at exactly nine o’clock to begin the briefing.” Sleepy heads were poking out of all the bedroom doors. Jack walked into the room in a pair of boxers, rubbing his eyes.
“Ramsey? Why is everyone shouting? The baby is asleep.”
“Yeah. General Blowhard here has decided this is some kind of military encampment. Here’s coffee and tomato juice.” I lowered my voice. “Fixed just the way you like it. Now go in and get showered.” Jack took the tray and ducked back into the bedroom.
“When was the last time that man had a haircut? Or a shave?” Colonel Smythe screamed. “Lieutenant, who else is in that room? Who else is in this suite?”
“Sir! It is assumed that Mrs. Adams and the baby are also in Mr. Adams’ room. Mrs. Smith is in the next bedroom. The other four bedrooms are occupied by Doctors Ulman, Simpson, Gardner, and Reynolds.”
Each of the doctors stepped out of their rooms and began to overwhelm the Colonel with their questions and complaints at being awakened so rudely. By the time the Colonel got them all back to their rooms, the Lieutenant had been in to check the level of toothpaste in each tube. Jack and Evelyn came into the room, Jack carrying Lily against a black T-shirt that proclaimed ‘Death Awaits,’ the name of a new age metal band. The colonel had a fit.
“You can’t go to see the President of the United States dressed like that! Go put a suit and tie on immediately!”
“Don’t have one. They didn’t let us pack anything but a change of underwear before they hustled us out of Orlando,” Jack said. His arm was protectively around Evelyn who was dressed in maternity jeans and a shapeless top.
“You!” the colonel snapped at me. “You have clothes. Loan this man a suit, shirt, and tie.”
“He’s four inches taller than I am!”
The colonel scowled at the Lieutenant and the man dove into my room to get clothes. Elizabeth screamed. The Lieutenant ran out of the room, dragging my suit and being chased by Elizabeth, beating on him with her purse and wearing only a bra and panties.
“Ramsey!” she said in a threatening manner. “Are you going to defend my honor or am I going to do whup-ass on this tin soldier myself?”
“Honey, maybe you should go back in the bedroom and lock the door behind you until you’re dressed. And call Smith and Smith to get them up here.”
“There is no need for any of you here except John F. Adams. Go back to your rooms and pack to leave. Only Mr. Adams will be going to the press conference.”
“Like hell,” Jack said. “My wife and daughter stay with me and go with me. And so does Ramsey and Elizabeth. You can’t make me go without them.”
“You’ll do what you’re told!”
“Or what? You’ll handcuff me and drag me into the press conference? That should go over good. Ramsey, can I get another one of these?” He waved his glass in the air.
I grinned and traded the glass for the suit the lieutenant was holding. Every once in a while, Jack surprised me. He was very territorial about his family and apparently, Elizabeth and I were family.
“I’ll bring it in. Go ahead and get dressed.”
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