28-04-2019, 02:13 PM
So Night Follows Day Pt. 30
"I bought a first-class ticket
on Malaysian Air,
and landed in Sri Lanka,
none the worse for wear.
I'm thinking of retiring
from all my dirty deals.
I'll see you in the next life.
Wake me up for meals."
-Warren Zevon, Mr. Bad Example
"Maleficent is here! Repeat: Maleficent is here!"
The Secret Service agent spoke Contessa Helena de San Finzione's codename as she walked past him, through the West Wing of the White House, toward the Oval Office.
"Contessa!" One of the President's aides; Helen didn't remember what he did, but that he was one of the people who actually did things around here, ran up to her nervously shouting. He seemed to be both be trying to get her attention and alert everyone that she was there at the same time. "Contessa Helena de San Finzione!"
Helen waited until he said her full name and title to finally turn around and address the man.
"Oh, hi there." She said with a smile, as they continued walking. "I'm not staying, this isn't an official visit. I just stopped in to use the phone."
"I, uh..." The man floundered for something to say. "I noticed that you refused Secret Service protection for your visit, again."
"I've told you all before: I have my Ultimados." Helen said, lighting a cigarette. "They do everything your little Secret Service does except better. Especially the standing out in a crowd, Mr. Ignore-My-Ray-Bans-Indoors-While-I-Whisper-Into-My-Cufflink!" The last, she yelled over her shoulder at another agent that they passed.
She burst into the Oval Office, causing the President and more of his advisers to stop whatever they were talking about. Helen noticed poker cards, chips and girly magazines being stashed.
"Don't get up." She commanded everyone. "Everyone shut up and stay where you are. Except you." She pointed at the President. "Yes, shut your hole, but stand up and walk over to that side of the room. The last thing I want is YOU anywhere within photo op range of me. I'm here to use the phone."
He walked over to the other door of the room, folded his arms, and started continuously nodding; the way he did to indicate to people that he wasn't listening to a word they said and was just waiting for his chance to speak again.
Helen walked up to his desk and opened the top drawer. She took out the red telephone, propped her feet up on the desk, and picked up the receiver. She dug something out of her purse while she waited for the person on the other end to pick up.
"Vlad!" She said when the other person picked up, flicking her ashes onto the President's desk. She began speaking in Russian. "Yeah, Contessa Helena de San Finzione here. I was on my way home and thought I'd stop in and have a word. And I'm doing it this way, because... well, one, I want to talk to the organ grinder, not the monkey; and two, because this is as close as I like to get to you, and I don't want either of you little pricks getting my number."
She took a piece of paper with a list of names on it and set it on the desk.
"Here's what's gonna fucking happen: I'm leaving a paper with your bitch." She explained. "It's a list of forty-one names of people being held in the Uongoian refugee camps. San Finzione will provide them safe passage and transport to America, America's going to grant them full citizenship with zero hassles or media attention. Your little doggy is gonna sit here and like it and get nothing in return. He doesn't even get to 'act big' for it for the media. YOUR task is to let him know he's going to do it, because the language of Shit is about the only one I don't know, so I'll let you two discuss it. And if you have the tiniest issue with it, you've no doubt already heard about my big shopping spree last night." There was a pause. "I'm glad we understand each other."
She stood up, put out her cigarette on the desk, dropped the receiver, and headed for the patio door. She looked at the fucker whom he and his businesses, Vincenzo had been wise to ban from San Finzione decades before he decided to destroy any admiration the world had left for the country that he'd made Helen proud to call "No longer my own." If she stopped to tell this "man" all the things that were wrong with him and that he needed to stop doing right now, Maria will have married Stavro and solved the heir problem in the course of natural time herself by the time Helen got home. The Primary Home, now.
"He wants to talk to you now." She told the President in English. Halfway out the door, she stopped and turned around.
"The next time any of you are on camera and try to explain how some new tax cut for you and your rich pals is going to be good for America; you'll shit your pants on the spot. All of you, once you find out about it. Ciao, America!"
* * *
"I bought a first-class ticket
on Malaysian Air,
and landed in Sri Lanka,
none the worse for wear.
I'm thinking of retiring
from all my dirty deals.
I'll see you in the next life.
Wake me up for meals."
-Warren Zevon, Mr. Bad Example
"Maleficent is here! Repeat: Maleficent is here!"
The Secret Service agent spoke Contessa Helena de San Finzione's codename as she walked past him, through the West Wing of the White House, toward the Oval Office.
"Contessa!" One of the President's aides; Helen didn't remember what he did, but that he was one of the people who actually did things around here, ran up to her nervously shouting. He seemed to be both be trying to get her attention and alert everyone that she was there at the same time. "Contessa Helena de San Finzione!"
Helen waited until he said her full name and title to finally turn around and address the man.
"Oh, hi there." She said with a smile, as they continued walking. "I'm not staying, this isn't an official visit. I just stopped in to use the phone."
"I, uh..." The man floundered for something to say. "I noticed that you refused Secret Service protection for your visit, again."
"I've told you all before: I have my Ultimados." Helen said, lighting a cigarette. "They do everything your little Secret Service does except better. Especially the standing out in a crowd, Mr. Ignore-My-Ray-Bans-Indoors-While-I-Whisper-Into-My-Cufflink!" The last, she yelled over her shoulder at another agent that they passed.
She burst into the Oval Office, causing the President and more of his advisers to stop whatever they were talking about. Helen noticed poker cards, chips and girly magazines being stashed.
"Don't get up." She commanded everyone. "Everyone shut up and stay where you are. Except you." She pointed at the President. "Yes, shut your hole, but stand up and walk over to that side of the room. The last thing I want is YOU anywhere within photo op range of me. I'm here to use the phone."
He walked over to the other door of the room, folded his arms, and started continuously nodding; the way he did to indicate to people that he wasn't listening to a word they said and was just waiting for his chance to speak again.
Helen walked up to his desk and opened the top drawer. She took out the red telephone, propped her feet up on the desk, and picked up the receiver. She dug something out of her purse while she waited for the person on the other end to pick up.
"Vlad!" She said when the other person picked up, flicking her ashes onto the President's desk. She began speaking in Russian. "Yeah, Contessa Helena de San Finzione here. I was on my way home and thought I'd stop in and have a word. And I'm doing it this way, because... well, one, I want to talk to the organ grinder, not the monkey; and two, because this is as close as I like to get to you, and I don't want either of you little pricks getting my number."
She took a piece of paper with a list of names on it and set it on the desk.
"Here's what's gonna fucking happen: I'm leaving a paper with your bitch." She explained. "It's a list of forty-one names of people being held in the Uongoian refugee camps. San Finzione will provide them safe passage and transport to America, America's going to grant them full citizenship with zero hassles or media attention. Your little doggy is gonna sit here and like it and get nothing in return. He doesn't even get to 'act big' for it for the media. YOUR task is to let him know he's going to do it, because the language of Shit is about the only one I don't know, so I'll let you two discuss it. And if you have the tiniest issue with it, you've no doubt already heard about my big shopping spree last night." There was a pause. "I'm glad we understand each other."
She stood up, put out her cigarette on the desk, dropped the receiver, and headed for the patio door. She looked at the fucker whom he and his businesses, Vincenzo had been wise to ban from San Finzione decades before he decided to destroy any admiration the world had left for the country that he'd made Helen proud to call "No longer my own." If she stopped to tell this "man" all the things that were wrong with him and that he needed to stop doing right now, Maria will have married Stavro and solved the heir problem in the course of natural time herself by the time Helen got home. The Primary Home, now.
"He wants to talk to you now." She told the President in English. Halfway out the door, she stopped and turned around.
"The next time any of you are on camera and try to explain how some new tax cut for you and your rich pals is going to be good for America; you'll shit your pants on the spot. All of you, once you find out about it. Ciao, America!"
* * *
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