Arm in arm, the new first couple stepped up to the platform. Millions of Americans watched as Ted Rust placed his hand on the Holy Bible held by the chief justice of the Supreme Court and swore the constitutionally mandated Oath of Office to become president of the United States of America.

There was polite applause. A military band played a presidential fanfare, then President Theodore Rust walked to the microphone to give a performance worthy of Laurence Olivier. His voice rose and fell almost magically. He cried on cue, just as he had been carefully rehearsed to do.

When it was over, the president and first lady were safely ensconced in the bullet-proof presidential limousine. President Rust was on his way to his first cabinet meeting at the White House. But, moments later, when the limousine did not move quickly enough, the new first lady addressed a harangue to the Secret Service agent at the wheel that was coarse and salty enough to make a longshoreman blush. The agent and his partner were sworn to secrecy about what they heard between the president and first lady, but they were under no obligation to endure personal humiliation.

After he stopped the car under the White House portico, the driver got out, leaving the motor still running. He walked over to one of the Secret Service cars following the limousine. His supervisor rolled down his car window, and before he could say a word, the driver handed him his badge and his weapon. “I quit,” he said, and started to walk away. Then he stopped, turned on his heel, and said, “If some crazy wants to pop these clowns, I sure don’t want to stand in the way.”

AFTER THE PRESIDENT’S brief but stirring inaugural address, Charley McAtee flipped off the television in his spacious den and looked at the expressionless faces around the room. “Well,” he said. “What do you think?”

“He’s very charming,” Lori Throneberry replied, “and, I must say, he appears as presidential today as he ever did in the movies. But something isn’t right. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Dave Busby had spent too much time in what he called “the hood” to be taken in by one speech, and he was nodding his head vigorously. “I agree, Lori,” he said. “I think you’re right on target. I have a bad feeling about this dude. I’ve seen some ringers before, but this guy’s as phony as a three-dollar bill. We’re not going to have a country much longer if they put him in charge.” He looked at Charley and said, “We’d better make some plans real soon. Know what I mean?”

Charley smiled. “Dave, I trust your gut instincts better than anybody I know. I wasn’t sure if it was just me or what, but both of you saw what I saw. It looks like we’ve got about two hours until the next bombshell hits on the West Coast, but I don’t know which I fear most— the meteor or Ted Rust. God only knows what will happen next, but all we can do right now is wait. Wait and pray. And in the meantime, I think you and I need to see if there isn’t some way we can help Carl and Lori get some answers to their questions. Okay?”