AIR FORCE ONE was surrounded by tanks when the President of the United States landed at Moscow airport.
President Zerimski left us in no doubt that he had little interest in giving Tom Lawrence a photo opportunity for the folks back home.
Nor were there the usual ‘Welcome to Russia’ speeches delivered from a podium on the runway.
As a grim-faced Lawrence descended the aircraft’s steps, he was greeted by the sight of Marshal Borodin standing in the turret of a tank.
When the two Presidents eventually met at the Kremlin later this morning, the first item on the agenda was President Zerimski’s demand that the NATO forces which patrol Russia’s western borders be immediately withdrawn. Following the heavy defeat of his Nuclear, Biological, Chemical and Conventional Arms Reduction Bill in the Senate, and the Ukraine’s voluntary return to the Soviet Union, President Lawrence knows that he is not in a position to give an inch on NATO’s role in Europe, especially since the newly elected Senator Helen Dexter keeps describing him as ‘the red stooge’.
Since Senator Dexter’s resignation as Director of the CIA last year, in order to ‘more openly oppose the President’s misguided foreign policy’, there is already talk on the Hill of her becoming the first woman President.
At this morning’s preliminary talks in the Kremlin,
President Zerimski made no pretence of …
Stuart looked up from the front page of the Sydney Morning Herald as Maggie walked into the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a sweater. They had been living in the same house for over six months, and he had never seen her with a hair out of place.
‘Good morning, Stuart,’ she said. ‘Anything interesting in the paper?’
‘Zerimski’s still flexing his muscles at the slightest opportunity,’ Stuart replied. ‘And your President is having to put a brave face on it. At least, that’s the view of the Russian correspondent of the Herald.’
‘Zerimski would drop a nuclear bomb on the White House if he thought he could get away with it,’ said Maggie. ‘Isn’t there any brighter news to tell me on a Saturday morning?’
‘The Prime Minister has announced the date for the election of our first President.’
‘You’re so slow in this country,’ said Maggie, filling a bowl with cornflakes. ‘We got rid of the British over two hundred years ago.’
‘It won’t take us much longer,’ said Stuart with a laugh as his wife strolled into the room in her dressing gown.
‘Good morning,’ she said sleepily. Maggie slid off her stool and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
‘You sit there and have these cornflakes while I make you an omelette. You really mustn’t …’
‘Mother, I’m pregnant, not dying of consumption,’ said Tara. ‘I’ll be just fine with a bowl of cornflakes.’
‘I know, it’s just that …’
‘… you’ll never stop worrying,’ said Tara, putting her arms around her mother’s shoulders. ‘I’ll let you in on a secret. There is no medical evidence that miscarriages are hereditary; only fussing mothers. What’s the big story this morning?’ she asked, looking across at Stuart.
‘My case in the criminal court has made the headlines - on page sixteen,’ he said, pointing to three short paragraphs tucked away in the bottom left-hand corner.
Tara read the report through twice before saying, ‘But they don’t even mention your name.’
‘No. They seem to be more interested in my client at the moment,’ admitted Stuart. ‘But if I get him off, that could change.’
‘I hope you don’t get him off,’ said Maggie as she broke a second egg. ‘I think your client is a little creep, and ought to spend the rest of his life in jail.’
‘For stealing $73?’ said Stuart in disbelief.
‘From a defenceless old woman.’
‘But it was the first time.’
‘The first time he was caught, I think you mean,’ said Maggie.
‘You know, Maggie, you would have made a first-class prosecuting counsel,’ said Stuart. ‘You should never have agreed to taking a sabbatical this year - you should have enrolled in law school instead. Mind you, I suspect life imprisonment for stealing $73 might not go down that big with everyone.’
‘You’d be surprised, young man,’ retorted Maggie.