'There's the State Dining Room. That's kinda neat, too.'
It didn't look as if lunch was going to be served there today. The long dark wood table had just silver candelabras placed along its center. Apart from that it was bare. Sarah studied the picture for a while, as if taking in all the detail of the decor. My eyes were focused on the shot of the briefing room.
'Is that the Diplomatic Reception Room?' Sarah put her finger on a screen to my left, pointing to a doorway. Looking over, I could see the brown screens blocking off the ground floor corridor, and the ERT escort standing over the CNN guys, who were still fiddling about with cables.
TO confirmed it.
'That's right. Any minute now you'll see the big three appear and walk in there. At the moment they're across the hall, in the library.'
As I watched the picture he was indicating, flicking back to check the briefing room every few seconds, our friendly waiter came out of the reception room and walked back toward the brown screens. This time his trolley was empty. I heard com ms mush coming from TC's earpiece.
'The coffee's there, all we need now are the drinkers.' The ERT guy began to move the CNN people out of the corridor, back toward their wagon. I flicked my eyes over at one of the screens again. Shit! Bill Gates was in the briefing room. At least, the hair and glasses matched what I thought he looked like. He had walked in and was just looking around. I needed Sarah to confirm, but she was the other side of Davy as we all stood around TO in his chair. I kept looking at her, trying to catch her eye. I couldn't say anything yet; I could be wrong. Why wasn't she also checking that screen? They were focused on the other one with the four Secret Service men at the far end of the corridor.
More mush was coming from TC's earpiece.
'Here they come ...'
A few seconds later the three world leaders walked out into the corridor and turned toward the camera. They were moving quite slowly so that Arafat could keep up. I checked Bill Gates. He was now sitting down and writing. I looked back at the other screen, then at Sarah. Come on, look at me, check the screen, do something! She was oblivious to anything but the three leaders as a group of advisers followed them, clutching folders and nodding with each other as they walked.
'Hey, let's give you folks a listen.' TO leaned over the desktop and hit a button on the console. A speaker in front of us burst into life. A very quick but calm New York voice was giving commands over the net. People were acknowledging him in just the same tones. It sounded like mission control at Houston. Small red buttons were now lit on three of the microphones on the desk. I checked Bill Gates. He hadn't moved.
They walked along the corridor for a short way, Clinton between the two others as they moved in line abreast. A few paces more and they turned left into the Reception Room.
I looked across at Sarah. She was checking the large green digital display clock on the wall. It was 10:57; they were right on time.
'Hey, Sarah, isn't that Gatesy? You know, that reporter friend of yours?' I couldn't think of anything else to say. I pointed and everyone turned to look.
Sarah took a step forward and looked at the figure sitting down, reading his notes. Standing back, she looked at me.
'No, it's not. His hair is much darker. But they do look similar.'
TO stood up 'That's it, folks, I've gotta go.' He hit the console button.
The sound and red microphone lights died.
We all shook hands again.
'I hope you people have a good trip. Ask these two nicely, see if they'll take you over to the Treaty Room.'
Davy said, 'It's on the itinerary, after the alley.'
TO nodded as he headed for the door.
'See you guys. Hey, Davy, don't forget, four thirty this afternoon, we've got that meeting.' They ran through a few details of their work admin while Sarah and I, the gooseberries, just stood by, keeping an eye on the briefing-room screen.
We followed TO out of Crisis Four. When we were all out in the corridor he made sure the door was secure, then turned right and walked off toward the fire doors with a cheery wave of the hand.
A couple of Hispanic women came squeaking along in white overalls and white patent-leather shoes, looking like a cross between cleaners and nurses, and talking at 100 mph in their own language. They stopped as they passed us, nodded and smiled, then returned to their warp-speed conversation.
We turned left and moved farther down the corridor.
Josh had an idea.
'Hey, you know what? I'll go over and see if I can get us into the Treaty Room, and maybe even the VP's office.'
'That would be great,' I said.
'Would we still be able to watch the press brief?'
Sarah joined in.
'Yes, I'd love to see that as well. I have--' Josh smiled as he put his hands up defensively, like a parent fending off an overenthusiastic child.
'Hey, no problem. In a few.' He turned and walked toward the fire doors. Sarah and I exchanged a relieved glance as Davy led the way. We stopped two doors down.
Davy grinned.
'This is the best room in the house.' He opened the door. Inside was an open space, maybe fifteen feet by fifteen, with stack able plastic chairs arranged around the walls, the same as in the briefing room. Beyond that, in shadow, was a single-lane bowling alley.
The floor was highly polished lino. The walls were painted white and covered with a couple of posters of bowling teams, and pushed against it was a large wooden box, also painted white, with compartments that looked as if they were holding about eight or nine pairs of bowling shoes.
There was whirring and clicking as all the bits and pieces of alley machinery came to life and the strip lighting along the alley flickered on.
Davy smiled back at us as he walked toward the shoes.
'I've got a great story for you guys.'
By now the bowling balls were rolling up onto the stand and the pins were being positioned by the machine at the bottom of the lane.
Davy had his back to us, his shoulders rolling as he anticipated his own story. His head moved to look at us both again and he pointed at the top pair of shoes.
'You see these?' We both nodded. He looked back to pull them out. I took the opportunity for a quick look at Baby-G. Fifty-five minutes to go until the press brief.
Davy turned around to walk back to us.
'These are Bill's personal bowling shoes,' he said.
'Look at the size of the things.'
They must have been something like size sixteen, at least.
'He's a big man all right.' Hefting them in his hand, he chuckled.
'You know the old saying, big feet, big...' He suddenly checked himself in case Sarah didn't approve. She was smiling.
The shoes were white with red stripes. As Davy reached us, he turned them around and showed us something.
'See this?' All smiles, he pointed to the back of the shoes. I saw that each had a little mark in black felt tip.
'One day Bill came down with some of his bowling buddies. He went to get his shoes, and a couple of the advisers saw this written on the back.'
He pointed again. On one was the letter L, and on the other an R. 'There they were, supposed to be discussing world affairs, and his aides were suddenly more worried about how he'd react to people writing on his shoes ... 'Well, Bill picked them up, and for a moment there was silence ...' I could tell old Davy Boy had told this
