IN THE WHITEHOUSE, CORY HAD JUST ENDED her brief press conference oration about the LA fundraiser — and she answered some questions to the reporters, who were gathered in around the podium. She finished her agenda by saying...

“The answer to more of that — it will all be revealed in full detail at the fundraiser tonight — so please be there!”

The reporters were still hounding her when she was about to step off the podium...

“Madam President, is LA under the threat by the Preacher's attack tonight — just like the previous devastation of New Orleans?”

Another older reporter adjoined mordantly...

“Is it wise to hold this fundraiser event at all — when that terrorist Preacher, who has defiled every ordinance in the book that is out there — and he is waiting to strike back at the authorities and he will destroy Los Angeles with his army of coercing warmongering AOG rebels?”

Cory stopped and looked back piercingly at the scores of the press journalists — who were anticipating for her response — she punched her fist at them, ridiculing out at them...

“I don’t believe in any moratorium in my timetable — so you all can go now and make an official announcement — that the ugly, bloodthirsting Preacher himself is always invited to attend the gala dinner tonight — because this fundraiser event in L.A. would precede on as scheduled, whether or not he accepts the invitation!”

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“Whether also, he comes in friendly or in a bloodthirsting hostile manner — I am always prepared for him — and I will face him eye-to-eye, once I am over there in L.A.!”

Cory laughed and waved back to all present, before being escorted by Secret Service agents behind the curtain.

They were heading to the hallway towards the Oval Office — and Agent Iris Green intercepted them. “Madame President, your transportation is ready — to take you and the delegates to Air Force One.”

Cory nodded back. “Excellent, Agent Green — just a moment, I need to get something from the office.”

The team of Secret Service followed her until Cory reached the Oval Office door, where another two agents stood guard.

Cory turned to all the black-suits behind her. “Wait here.”

She stepped alone, inside the nation’s administrative centre in the West wing — where ahead of her, a small group of people were surrounding someone who was seated on a high stool. They stepped aside when they saw President Cory approaching to have a glance — at ‘her double’ — who was receiving her final minute makeup-touch.

The double was identically dressed — right to the bandaged palm where Cory injured days ago, by the broken shot glass — the double stood up, and greeted her president. Cory forced a razor-thin smile to see an exact replica image of herself, in front of her very eyes...

“Go out there — and do a good job.”

The Cory-double stepped out of the Oval Office with a leatherette folder in her hand — with tonight’s speech script in it...

The unsuspicious Secret Service team outside then led her away to her waiting plane.