One, the second four were to escort Marine Two, and so on. The batting order was announced, and each division, which consisted of one VH-3 and four CH-53s, was given its bearing on which it was to leave the White House. Because it would take almost twenty minutes from the time the first VH-3 took off from the South Lawn to the time the last one did, the divisions were given different flight paths from the White House to
Camp David. If all ten divisions left the White House and flew along the same flight path, it would give a terrorist time to move into position and take a shot at one of the later groups.
The blond-haired assassin was wearing contact lenses that made his blue eyes look brown. Once again his face, neck, and hands were covered with brown makeup, and a short, Afro wig was covering his hair.
He exited George Washington Memorial Parkway and pulled the maroon van into the
Glebe Nature Center. Finding a space close to the edge of the riverbank, he parked the van by a small, stone wall. About a mile to his south was the Key Bridge, and below him and just to the north was the Chain Bridge. Climbing into the back of the van, he turned on the control board and monitors. The van had been purchased with cash from a
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bankrupt TV station in Cleveland four months earlier. The small satellite dish on the roof pulled in the broadcast signals from the three networks and CNN. He was only concerned with CNN’s and ABC’s broadcasts. He put those two on the top monitors. CNN was giving a live update from the South Lawn, while ABC was still showing its regularly scheduled program. Reaching to his right, he dialed ABC’s live-feed frequency into the receiver. The signal was fuzzy at first, but after some fine-tuning the picture became clear. The White House correspondent for CNN was speaking from the South Lawn, so the assassin turned up the volume and listened. “The President’s guests have been arriving now for the last fifteen minutes or so.” The reporter looked over her shoulder and gestured at another limousine pulling up.
“Security is very tight and tensions seem to be running high. The President is scheduled to sit down for a light lunch with the leaders of both parties shortly. After lunch, probably sometime around noon, they will be boarding helicopters and flying to
Camp David for the weekend.” The anchor in Atlanta thanked the reporter for the story and broke away for a commercial. The assassin checked his watch and leaned against the small back of the control chair. It would be another hour before the action started. The
President and the leaders from both parties were sitting around the large conference table in the Roosevelt Room, while Navy stewards served lunch and photographers from the press pool snapped pictures. They sat in a prearranged order, Republican next to
Democrat, adversary next to adversary. This was done to give the impression of genuine unity within the group. Several reporters stood in the corner and shouted questions that were ignored. The event was a photo op, not a press conference, but as was always the case, the reporters who handled the White House beat asked questions regardless of what they were told to do. The constant flurry of questions and the politicians’ refusal to answer them made for an awkward situation as the cameras continued to flash away. The political leaders sat at the table and smiled at one another, trying to look good for the cameras.
As each question was half shouted at the group, the participants looked to the
President to see if it would be answered. Etiquette dictated that no one answer anything unless the President answered first or gave the approval for someone else to speak.
One of the photographers broke away from the pack and walked around to the other side of the table so she could get photos of the men sitting across from the President.
Stevens noticed this and became uncomfortable. During the last several years, the small bald patch on the back of his head had grown significantly. Stevens had become increasingly insecure about this simple fact of aging and as a result made a conscious effort not to be photographed from behind. Before the photographer could move into position, the President looked up at Moncur and said, “Ann, I think that’s enough.”
Moncur stepped in front of the cameras and reporters and escorted them to the door.
When the door was closed, everyone looked around the room to make sure none of the reporters had stayed behind. Once they were sure they were alone, the mood changed immediately. The fake smiles vanished and the conversation picked up. There were a lot
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of deals to be made before the weekend was over. About twenty minutes later, Jack
Lortch entered the room and asked for the President’s permission to address the group.
Everyone stopped talking while Agents Manly and Stiener walked around the table and handed each person a piece of paper. “Ladies and gentlemen, this sheet lists which helicopter you will be flying on and who you will be flying with. If you’ll notice, the
President is not on this list, and there is no one listed as flying on the last helicopter.
For security reasons we will not announce which helicopter the President will be on until the last minute. If we decide to put him on the first helicopter, all of you will be bumped to the next chopper, and if we decide to put him on the fifth helicopter, those flying on helicopters five, six, seven, eight, and nine will be bumped to the next flight.”
Lortch quickly glanced around the room to make sure everyone was with him. “The helicopters will be coming in at quick intervals, so I would ask that you be ready to go when your helicopter lands. When your helicopter lands, Secret Service agents will escort you to the chopper and a Marine will help you get situated and buckled in …. Do any of you have any questions?”
Lortch again looked around the room and noticed with satisfaction that the mood had become more serious. He turned to the President. “Sir, that’s all I have for now.” The
President thanked Lortch, and the agents left the room. Lortch was walking down the hallway, telling Manly and Stiener several more things that he wanted checked, when Stu
Garret approached from the opposite direction and stopped them. “Have you decided which helicopter the President is flying on?”
