h-bed, feeling no pain, mostly
because his personal physician had pumped him full of morphine. Dr.
Barnes sat by the bed holding the presidential wrist and waiting,
occasionally nodding off and recovering with a belligerent stare around
the room. The four wire-service men didn't care whether he fell asleep
or not; they were worriedly discussing the nature and habits of the
President's first-born, who would shortly succeed to the highest office
in the Republic.

"A firebrand, they tell me," the A.P. man said unhappily.

"Firebrands I don't mind," the U.P. man said. "He can send out all the
inflammatory notes he wants just as long as he isn't a fiend for
exercise. I'm not as young as I once was. You boys wouldn't remember the
_old_ President, Folsom XXII. He used to do point-to-point hiking. He
worshipped old F.D.R."

The I.N.S. man said, lowering his voice: "Then he was worshipping the
wrong Roosevelt. Teddy was the athlete."

Dr. Barnes started, dropped the presidential wrist and held a mirror to
the mouth for a moment. "Gentlemen," he said, "the President is dead."

"O.K.," the A.P. man said. "Let's go, boys. I'll send in the flash.
U.P., you go cover the College of Electors. I.N.S., get onto the
President Elect. Trib, collect some interviews and background--"

The door opened abruptly; a colonel of infantry was standing there,
breathing hard, with an automatic rifle at port. "Is he dead?" he asked.

"Yes," the A.P. man said. "If you'll let me past--"

"Nobody leaves the room," the colonel said grimly. "I represent General
Slocum, Acting President of the Republic. The College of Electors is
acting now to ratify--"

A burst of gunfire caught the colonel in the back; he spun and fell,
with a single hoarse cry. More gunfire sounded through the White House.
A Secret Serviceman ducked his head through the door: "President's dead?
You boys stay put. We'll have this thing cleaned up in an hour--" He
vanished.

The doctor sputtered his alarm and the newsmen ignored him with
professional poise. The A.P. man asked: "Now who's Slocum? Defense
Command?"

I.N.S. said: "I remember him. Three stars. He headed up the Tactical
Airborne Force out in Kansas four-five years ago. I think he was retired
since then."

A phosphorus grenade crashed through the window and exploded with a
globe of yellow flame the size of a basketball; dense clouds of
phosphorus pentoxide gushed from it and the sprinkler system switched
on, drenc