"White,.Steve.-.Prometheus.Project" - читать интересную книгу автора (White Steve)

"Чwant us to focus on our own domestic problems, and not on
foreign adventurism," Langston continued without a break, forcing
himself to ignore the dig. Plenty of time later to stick it to that
wiseass reporter, he thought, knowing that Sal DiAngelo, his
campaign manager, would have spotted the man and noted his
name. "The people want us to abandon our weapons of
destruction and seek peaceful solutions to the conflicts we
ourselves have provoked! The peopleЧ"

From off to the side, DiAngelo caught his eye and frowned. Stop
campaigning, damn you! Langston told himself. You don't have to
campaign any more. You've won! He still had to periodically remind
himself of that fact, as incredible to him as it was to most of the
country.

"The people want continuity and the regular exercise of
constitutional processes," he finished smoothly. He prided himself
on these seamless recoveries. It was an ability that could be
counted on to save his bacon as long as DiAngelo or one of his
other handlers was around to shoot him warning looks when the
shrillness started to creep back into his voice. "And now, I'll take a
few questions."

He got through the questions from the floor, recognizing only those
journalists he knew were friendly or, at least, predictable. Then it
was over, and the President and his successor were out the
doorway of the Press Room together, trailed by a gaggle of
staffers and Secret Service men.

As they proceeded down the corridor into the West Wing, a tall,
unfamiliar man on the outskirts of the President's entourage caught
Langston's eye. He felt certain he would have remembered the
man if he'd seen him before, despite his completely nondescript
clothes. He looked old, with his thick mane of white hair, and yet his
movements were not those of an old man. His features were bleak
and harsh, and disfigured by a scar slanting across his left cheek. .
. .

"Harvey . . . I mean, Mr. President-Elect," muttered DiAngelo,
derailing his train of thought, "I still see no reason for this meeting.
If there's anything that needs to be settled, the staffsЧ"

"Oh, it's all right, Sal. The President has asked for a private one-on-
one conversation, and I see no reason to object. I'm curious to see
what he wants. And besides, we can afford to be obliging."

"Yes, butЧ"

Before DiAngelo could finish, they passed by the Cabinet Room