In Dickson's lexicon, I guessed, Americans of German descent, excellent subordinates that they are, are never late. “Transportation difficulties,” I improvised. “Energy crisis. Gasoline shortage. Odd-numbered plate, even-numbered day. Alternate-side-of-the-street parking, eight A.M. to eleven, one P.M. to four. No tank-topping. No-fault auto insurance. Safety emission standards. Low mileage.” Etcetera. . . .
“Arab blackmail.” Dickson nodded his head understandingly. “Up the oil-depletion allowance.”
The door to his office-den opened. I turned my head and found myself looking straight at the left breast of Alicia Alvarez, Dickson’s secret daughter. It was not so much covered as Saran-wrapped by a silken blouse of some sort.
“Alicia, this [characterization omitted] is Karl Powers.” Dickson introduced me arrogantly. “Karl’s my new bodyguard. Old Rodge Applesauce recommended him.” What passed for a chuckle crossed his lips as he purposely garbled his crony’s name. “Miss Alvarez,” he told me, straight-faced now, “is my confidential secretary.”
“How do you do?”
“Nice to meet you.”
I took my cue from Alicia and we both played it as if we’d never laid eyes-—or anything else—on each other before. That was fine with me. It would have been difficult explaining to Dickson how we came to know each other. Particularly since I was supposedly in the Bronx with Roger Algerpulp at the time we’d met. But then perhaps it would have been just as tough for Alicia to explain.
However, Alicia wasn’t altogether as cool as she seemed. Her left nipple—still on a level with my eyes—twanged to hardness against the silk and quivered at me nostalgically. I gave it a quick wink back to show I hadn’t forgotten.
“One minor matter and two major ones, Mr. President,” she told Dickson now.
Dickson, I would learn very quickly, insisted on the use of the title. Protocol was hazy on whether he was entitled to it after leaving offfice. But no one on PeePee Rococco’s island was likely to question Dickson’s preference.
“[Unintelligible]! Let’s get the minor one out of the way first,” Dickson decided.
“It’s Miss Forest --”
“Rosalie [characterization deleted],” Dickson sighed. “At least Checkers had the decency to die when his usefulness was over.” He looked wistful. “What’s bugging Rosalie now? Strike that! I mean what’s bothering Rosalie now?”
“She complains she has nothing to do. And she walks around muttering that I’m usurping her position.”
“Give her some old Hubert Humphrey tapes to transcribe. That should keep her busy. Maybe even lull her to sleep.” Another would-be chuckle.
“Hubert who?” Alicia wanted to know.
“Humphrey. You’ll find him in the miscellaneous file along with those [characterization deleted] Miller and Eagleton.”
“Okay, pa.”
Dickson’s eyes shifted warningly from me to Alicia and back.
“Pa-Pa-Pa-resident Dickson,” Alicia amended quickly and smoothly.
“Is Rosalie still hanging around with the other two [adjective omitted] crones?” Dickson wanted to know.
“They make soup together every night in a big kettle.”
“And that isn’t all they’re brewing.” It was hard to tell whether Dickson’s look was paranoid or merely normally furtive. “You tell Hans und Fritz20 to maintain surveillance on those three [expletive deleted] .”
“I’ll tell Mr. Katzenjammer and Mr. Jammerkatzen.” Alicia made a note in longhand.
“No! You dumb [unintelligible]! Pay attention! Tell Mr. Jammerkatzen und Mr. Katzenjammer!”
“Sorry, sir.” Alicia corrected her notation.
“Or is it Jammerjammer und Katzenkatzen?”
“Perhaps if they didn’t both have crew cuts, Mr. President, it wouldn’t be so hard to tell them apart. Maybe if either Hans or Fritz let his hair grow long --”
“Alicia! There will be no long-haired hippies in my administration! Next thing, you’ll be suggesting one of them resort to plastic surgery to remove his [adjective omitted] dueling scar.”
“Sorry again, Mr. President.”
“What else, Alicia?” he asked.
“There’s a top priority, rush-rush communication from President Cadillac marked ‘DICKSON EYES ONLY.’ ”
“What does it say?”
“It’s marked ‘EYES ONLY,’ sir.”
“Alicia, you’re not some [adjective omitted] yeoman in the navy! What the [expletive deleted] does it say?”
“President Cadillac wants to know where you left the key to the Chief Executive john.”
“He does, does he?”
“ ‘Immediate reply URGENT,’ he says. ‘URGENT,’ in caps.
“Does the [characterization deleted] think I took the key?”
“He doesn’t say, sir.”
“But that’s what he [expletive deleted]-a-well implies, isn’t it?”
“The message could be read that way, Mr. President.”
“I have said it before!” Dickson thumped the desk top. “And I will say it again!” More thumps. “‘I am not a crook!’ ”
“President Cadillac says the machinery of government is at a standstill pending the finding of the key to the Chief Executive john,” Alicia told him in a monotone, not letting her voice take sides on the issue.
“Then he will soon find out what I found out. When the machinery of government grinds to a standstill, efficiency reaches its highest peak.”
I was reminded of a book from my childhood. Alice in Watergate—something like that.
“Shall I answer President Cadillac that you haven’t got the key?” Alicia wanted to know.
“Did I say that?” Dickson’s eyes narrowed slyly. “I neither said I have the key, nor did I say I do not have the key. Such information is classified. It is a matter of executive privilege. After a thorough investigation of the constitutional issues involved and the matter of presidential prerogative, a determination will be made by an impartial panel of experts selected by me as to the relevancy or irrelevancy of the location of the key to the investigation into said key being launched by that publicity-seeking ingrate, President Cadillac.”
“Shall I reply, then, that any prior statements regarding the key—as to whether you have direct knowledge of its whereabouts or not—are no longer operative?”
“Have that [adjective omitted] press secretary of mine—what’s his name?—”
“Don Zigzag.”
“Yes. Have Don Zigzag leak a statement to that effect to the [expletive deleted] Washington Post or the [expletive deleted] New York Times. If there’s an adverse reaction, the [characterization omitted] can always deny it.”
“Mr. Zigzag’s credibility is sinking. He may be a little reluctant to—-”
“If the [expletive deleted] gives you any trouble, just give him a shove! Or kick him. Believe me, he likes it. He loves to grovel.”
“And do you wish me to reply to President Cadillac confidentially?”
“Unless I make a mistake on this thing, the way I analyze it, and I have stayed deliberately away from it, but I think I can sense what it is. The way I analyze the thing, this matter of the Chief Executive john being locked and President Cadillac not having the key, I can certainly appreciate his problem and you can tell that [characterization deleted]-eating [expletive omitted] Cadillac that I said he should look up the transcript of the tape for April fourteenth for solace. Something Katzenjammer, or Jammerkatzen—one of them—-said. It will give Cadillac something to look forward to.”
(Later on, I myself looked up the quote to which Dickson referred. It read as follows: “A guy that’s been constipated for eight months and all of a sudden was able to take a crap is going to enjoy it.” So much for President-to-President advice.)