Nick interrupted him. “Tell you what, you check on that, and I’ll see if I can get one.”
“How the hell are you going to do that?”
“Watch me,” he said as he turned and left the office. He found empty office space down the hall and took out his phone. He dialed the number that took him to the private switchboard in the nation’s capital.“
White House Signal Operator Number Twenty-three. How may
I help you?”
“Signal Twenty-three, Mr. Nick Harris. I’d like to speak to the
president, please.”
“Hold the line, Mr. Harris.” Nick found himself humming along to the patriotic music as he waited on hold. Five long minutes went by, then he heard a click.
“Hello?” Nick asked.
“Nick Harris, you coming back to work my campaign?”
Nick smiled. It was the president, the man who told him if he ever needed anything, he should call Signal Twenty-three.
“I believe you’ve asked me that the last few times we spoke. My answer is still, no, sir, I’m not, but I think I may have a way to guarantee a win.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, Mr. President, I’m here in Salt Lake City, and it turns out—and as crazy as it sounds—we might just have found the cure for cancer,” Nick said as he realized how odd, how bizarre those words sounded.
“Are you serious?” the president asked, an earnest tone eclipsing his usual jovial demeanor.
“Very,” Nick said, taking a deep breath as he got ready to make
his plea.
“Do you need security?”
“No, this place is pretty tight, but there are all these laws that make us wait years to test it on humans. I’m sure you know about the rules and regulations that govern such things. A lot of people who could be healed are going to die while we wait for the paperwork to be approved.”
“Jesus, Nick, do you know what you’re saying? You really think
you have it?”