(1980) The Second Lady by Irving Wallace Read Free Book Online Page B

of Billie Bradford.
    At this time, in distant Washington DC, Andrew Bradford was sworn in as President of the United States, and Billie Bradford entered the White House as First Lady.
    Two months later, for an American television network, Billie Bradford gave millions of viewers a short tour of the private quarters on the second floor of the White House, acting as a historical commentator, serious, humorous, witty. The show proved extremely popular, won high ratings, and enhanced the First Lady’s popularity. From New York, a copy of the First Lady’s television tour was air-freighted to Moscow. There, Petrov, Razin and Vera Vavilova saw it in her private projection room. After the screening, Vera Vavilova was ordered to watch the ten-minute film three times a day for six weeks. She was to study and memorize every nuance of the First Lady’s speech, every gesture, every movement, to absorb the entire performance, to imitate and rehearse it in the duplicate White House rooms on the sound stage.
    Between these labours, Vera Vavilova continued her lessons in voice and carriage. With an instructor playing tapes of Billie Bradford’s speeches and interviews over and over again, Vera Vavilova worked to pick up the First Lady’s slight Western American accent and to make her own voice deeper and throatier. She learned, too, to mimic the small lilt in the First Lady’s speech and to imitate her infectious laugh. From other instructors, in front of a montage of film of Billie Bradford, the Russian actress caught the First Lady’s stride in walking, her graceful pirouettes as she turned to hear someone, her poise when not in motion, her many gestures.
    At the end of six weeks, Razin said to-his charge, ‘You will report on the White House set tomorrow morning at eight. We will begin shooting the film.’
    ‘Then there really is a film?’ she teased him.
    He was charmed by her, but remained professionally serious. ‘Very much so, and you are the star.’
    Four weeks later, when the film was done, and Petrov saw the final cut, he decided the time had come for the crucial step. He could go no further without official permission -and a considerably larger budget.
    Petrov telephoned Premier Dmitri Kirechenko for a special appointment the following day in the Kremlin projection room.
    The Premier, usually suave and imperturbable, sounded edgy. ‘The projection room? I have no time for movies. Can’t it wait?’
    ‘It is a matter of high priority.’
    ‘Mmm. I’m booked the entire morning and afternoon.’
    ‘The evening then?’
    ‘Evening, evening - Garanin, Lobanov, Umyakov - they are joining me for dinner.’
    They were high-ranking members of the Politburo. Anatoli Garanin, especially, was a friend of the KGB and its projects.
    ‘Bring them, too,’ said Petrov. ‘I’ll need little more than a half-hour of your time before dinner.’
    The Premier sighed. He sounded worn out. ‘Have it your way then. Seven-thirty tomorrow evening. Projection room.’
    He hung up.
    The following evening, Petrov was inside the splendid Kremlin projection room, seated at 7.28 p.m. in the front row of the half-dozen rows of deep red seats. He had brought Alex Razin along, and Razin was up in the booth giving minute instructions to the projectionist. At 7.34, Premier Kirechenko arrived, followed by his Politburo colleagues, Garanin, Lobanov, Umyakov. The Premier, as ever, was an imposing figure, 5 feet 11, solid as a marble statue, immaculate in a striped blue suit. His horse’s face was adorned with rimless glasses, moustache neatly clipped, short Vandyke
    beard cut to a sharp point, a fleeting resemblance to an enemy of the state, Leon Trotsky. He found a seat, as did Garanin, partially bald and short, a scholarly type, and Lobanov and Umyakov, who looked like prosperous middle-aged businessmen.
    Petrov was standing, welcoming them.
    ‘We are here,’ said the Premier. ‘What was so vital?’
    ‘A new project,’ said Petrov, ‘a