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The President
Half a mile back, Shuckworth, Shanks and Showler were keeping the television
camera aimed all the time at the Glass Elevator. And across the world, millions
and millions of people were clustered around their TV screens, watching tensely
the drama being acted out two hundred and forty miles above the earth. In his
study in the White House sat Lancelot R. Gilligrass, President of the United
States of America, the most powerful man on Earth. In this moment of crisis, all
his most important advisers had been summoned urgently to his presence, and
there they all were now, following closely on the giant television screen every
move made by this dangerous-looking glass capsule and its eight desperate-
looking astronauts. The entire Cabinet was present. The Chief of the Army was
there, together with four other generals. There was the Chief of the Navy and the
Chief of the Air Force and a sword-swallower from Afghanistan, who was the
President's best friend. There was the President's Chief Financial Adviser, who
was standing in the middle of the room trying to balance the budget on top of his
head, but it kept falling off. Standing nearest of all to the President was the Vice-
President, a huge lady of eighty-nine with a whiskery chin. She had been the
President's nurse when he was a baby and her name was Miss Tibbs. Miss Tibbs
was the power behind the throne. She stood no nonsense from anyone. Some
people said she was as strict with the President now as when he was a little boy.
She was the terror of the White House and even the Head of the Secret Service
broke into a sweat when summoned to her presence. Only the President was
allowed to call her Nanny. The President's famous cat, Mrs Taubsypuss, was also
in the room.
There was absolute silence now in the Presidential study. All eyes were riveted
on the TV screen as the small glass object, with its booster-rockets firing, slid
smoothly up behind the giant Space Hotel.
'They're going to link up!' shouted the President. 'They're going on board our
Space Hotel!'
'They're going to blow it up!' cried the Chief of the Army. 'Let's blow
them
up
first, crash bang wallop bang-bang-bang-bang.' The Chief of the Army was
wearing so many medal-ribbons they covered the entire front of his tunic on both
sides and spread down on to his trousers as well. 'Come on, Mr P.,' he said. 'Let's
have some really super-duper explosions!'
'Silence, you silly boy!' said Miss Tibbs, and the Chief of the Army slunk into a
corner.
'Listen,' said the President. 'The point is this.
Who are they? And where do they
come from?
Where's my Chief Spy?'
'Here, sir, Mr President, sir!' said the Chief Spy.
He had a false moustache, a false beard, false eyelashes, false teeth and a falsetto
voice.
'Knock-Knock,' said the President.
'Who's there?' said the Chief Spy.
'Courteney.'
'Courteney who?'
'Courteney one yet?' said the President.
There was a brief silence. 'The President asked you a question,' said Miss Tibbs
in an icy voice. 'Have you Courteney one yet?'
'No, ma'am, not yet,' said the Chief Spy, beginning to twitch.
'Well, here's your chance,' snarled Miss Tibbs.
'Quite right,' said the President. 'Tell me immediately who those people are in
that glass capsule!'
'Ah-ha,' said the Chief Spy, twirling his false moustache. 'That is a very difficult
question.'
'You mean you don't know?'
'I mean I do know, Mr President. At least I think I know. Listen. We have just
launched the finest hotel in the world. Right?'
'Right!'
'And who is so madly jealous of this wonderful hotel of ours that he wants to
blow it up?'
'Miss Tibbs,' said the President.
'Wrong,' said the Chief Spy. 'Try again.'
'Well,' said the President, thinking deeply. 'In that case, could it not perhaps be
some other hotel owner who is envious of our lovely hotel?'
'Brilliant!' cried the Chief Spy. 'Go on, sir! You're getting warm!'
'It's Mr Savoy!' said the President.
'Warmer and warmer, Mr President!'
'Mr Ritz!'
'You're hot, sir! You're boiling hot! Go on!'
'I've got it!' cried the President. 'It's Mr Hilton!'
'Well done, sir!' said the Chief Spy.
'Are you sure it's him?'
'Not sure, but it's certainly a warm possibility, Mr President. After all, Mr
Hilton's got hotels in just about every country in the world but he hasn't got one
in space. And we have. He must be madder than a maggot!'
'By gum, we'll soon fix this!' snapped the President, grabbing one of the eleven
telephones on his desk. 'Hello!' he said into the phone. 'Hello hello hello!
Where's the operator?' He jiggled furiously on the little thing you jiggle when
you want the operator. 'Operator, where are you?'
'They won't answer you now,' said Miss Tibbs. 'They're all watching television.'
'Well,
this
one'll answer!' said the President, snatching up a bright red telephone.
This was the hot line direct to the Premier of Soviet Russia in Moscow. It was
always open and only used in terrible emergencies. 'It's just as likely to be the
Russians as Mr Hilton,' the President went on. 'Don't you agree, Nanny?'
'It's bound to be the Russians,' said Miss Tibbs.
'Premier Yugetoff speaking,' said the voice from Moscow. 'What's on your mind,
Mr President?'
'Knock-Knock,' said the President.
'Who's there?' said the Soviet Premier.
'Warren.'
'Warren who?'
'Warren Peace by Leo Tolstoy,' said the President. 'Now see here, Yugetoff! You
get those astronauts of yours off that Space Hotel of ours this instant! Otherwise,
I'm afraid we're going to have to show you just where you get off, Yugetoff!'
'Those astronauts are not Russians, Mr President.'
'He's lying,' said Miss Tibbs.
'You're lying,' said the President.
'Not lying, sir,' said Premier Yugetoff. 'Have you looked closely at those
astronauts in the glass box? I myself cannot see them too clearly on my TV
screen, but one of them, the little one with the pointed beard and the top hat, has
a distinctly Chinese look about him. In fact, he reminds me very much of my
friend the Prime Minister of China . . .'
'Great garbage!' cried the President, slamming down the red phone and picking
up a porcelain one. The porcelain phone went direct to the Head of the Chinese
Republic in Peking.
'Hello hello hello!' said the President.
'Wing's Fish and Vegetable Store in Shanghai,' said a small distant voice. 'Mr
Wing speaking.'
'Nanny!' cried the President, banging down the phone. 'I thought this was a direct
line to the Premier!'
'It is,' said Miss Tibbs. 'Try again.'
The President picked up the receiver. 'Hello!' he yelled.
'Mr Wong speaking,' said a voice at the other end.
'
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