Major Ali ben del Ponta relaxed and waited.
The man behind the desk finished scanning the sheet of micro-paper,
marked something on it with a stylo, stuck it in the pneumatube on the
corner of his desk, and pushed the button to close his desk drawer. He
looked up at Major Ali ben del Ponta.
"Well?" He put his hands together, fingers touching.
"It has begun, Prefect Lamberti. All over the world our local men are
leading their followers in attack. Captain Abram Mazzoli has sent in
his report from Tel Aviv. The city is in his hands. Captain Mahomet
DiSanto's 'Raiders' have complete control of the Sahara. Captain
Arnaldi's forces are firmly entrenched in the old Washington area of
America. He will move northward to meet Colonel Magnani's forces from
Canada and Commander Campisano. They--"
"Campisano's airborne ready to roll?"
"Yes, Sir. Arrangements have been made. The drop will be just outside
New York."
"Alright. Then everything has gone off as scheduled?"
"Yes, Sir."
Prefect Farouk Lamberti regarded his deskchron thoughtfully.
"And Caesar will make his speech in twenty-five hours and thirty-three
minutes?"
Major del Ponta glanced at his own chron, which was strapped to the
third finger of his left hand. "Yes, Sir. At 1400, tomorrow."
"Have the twenty-foot 'visor screen activated for public showing. Mount
it outside as we'd planned."
"It's being taken care of, Sir. The screen is on its way to the Square.
There will be a crowd."
"Good. We all want to hear noble Caesar."