In Madrid and under the order of the Spanish prime minister, the CNI, Centro Nacional de Inteligencia, the Spanish secret intelligence service, was coordinating a top-secret manhunt that included all points of exit from Madrid-airports, railway and bus stations, and major highways, as well as heightened electronic surveillance of communications between known radical political and terrorist organizations operating in Spain, including the Basque separatist group, ETA.

At the Hotel Ritz, Hap Daniels and Secret Service video experts huddled in the Secret Service mobile command post in the building's underground garage examining digital video recordings taken by the scores of surveillance cameras mounted in and around the hotel: the fourth floor presidential suite, the hallways, elevators and staircases nearby, those in the hotel's underground garage, its entryway and public rooms, and those mounted on the roof that gave a 360-degree view of the building's grounds.

On the hotel's fourth floor, Secret Service technical experts were going over the presidential suite itself, treating it as what they believed it was, a crime scene.

On the fourth floor too, and inside the same secure room they had gathered in earlier, National Security Adviser Dr. James Marshall, faced a somber foursome of Jake Lowe, Secretary of Defense Terrence Langdon, White House Chief of Staff Tom Curran, and the president's close friend, Madrid resident Evan Byrd. What Marshall had to say was something that at one point or other had crossed all of their minds.

"What if the president is not a victim of foul play? What if he's not been kidnapped at all but somehow found a way to beat security and get out on his own? What if that was his answer to our demand that he authorize the assassinations of the president of France and the chancellor of Germany?"

"How could he beat the Secret Service's impossibly complex circles of security?" Tom Curran dismissed the idea, at least out loud, as if somehow the idea of one man doing it alone were impossible. "And even if he did, how could he defeat Spanish security outside?"

"Tom, assume to hell he did." Marshall was angry. "Assume it was his idea and he got out. How doesn't make any difference except to show that he's smart as hell. What we've got here is a potential disaster. He knows what we requested of him. He knows who was there. The question is what is he going to do with that information? Until we bring him down, we're hanging in the wind, all of us."

"I think, Jim-" Jake Lowe crossed to the window, then turned around to face them. "There's nothing he can do."

"What the hell does that mean?" Marshall snapped. "He's the president of the United States, he can damn near do anything he wants."

"Except tell the truth about this," Lowe looked from Marshall to the others. "What's he going to do, burst into a TV station and say, 'Put me on the air I've got an important announcement to make? Every one of my top advisers, including the vice president, the secretary of defense, the national security adviser, and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs has demanded I authorize the assassination of the leaders of France and Germany'?

"The first thing they'd do is put him in a room and call a doctor, followed by the Spanish police and the U.S. embassy. They'd think he'd gone off his rocker. Hap Daniels would have him back here in no time. And the more he protested the crazier he would seem.

"More than that, if he has done this on his own, it means he doesn't think he can trust anyone. He's in office because we put him there. Everyone he knows, we know, and then some. He'll be very aware of that. Furthermore, he wouldn't have run if it wasn't a last resort, if he wasn't afraid that if he didn't do what we asked we'd kill him and Vice President Rogers would become president. A president whose first act would be to authorize the assassinations. And he'd be right about that. We would kill him. And we will kill him now as soon as he's brought back to us.

"He may be a conservative, gentlemen, but he's far too independent for us. It's our fault we didn't see it from the beginning. But we didn't and now he's out there, a time bomb if he can find a way to expose us. On the other hand there's not a lot he can do. He can't use electronic communications, because he'll know that all cell-phone, BlackBerry, and 'hardline' traffic, voice or text, is being monitored for electronic intercept by every security agency in our arsenal and Spain's. He tries to call anywhere, his location will be pinpointed before he gets ten seconds into his conversation. That communication will immediately be shut down in the event he's being made to do it against his will, and Spanish intel or our guys will pick him up in minutes if not seconds.

"So with no electronic communication, that means he's on the streets looking for a place to hide until he can figure out what to do. Next to maybe a couple of rock or movie stars, his is the most recognizable face on the planet. Where the hell does he think he can go that someone won't recognize him and shout about it one way or another? When that happens, the police and Spanish intelligence will show up in a heartbeat. They'll get him out of sight fast and call us. Then Hap and Jim and I will go to collect him. No matter what he says, within the hour he'll be back here, with everyone believing the death of his wife, the pressure of the campaign, of the office, of the whole thing here, finally just got to him and he lost it. He'll be examined by the medical staff who will recommend a little R & R, a breather in the countryside before Monday's NATO meeting in Warsaw. That's where he will be taken, and then taken care of. A heart attack or something. A sad and tragic ending to a proud and extremely promising presidency."

"All well and good," President Harris's close friend Evan Byrd said. "But what if this is not his own doing? What if he is a victim of some terrible foul play?"

"Then we hope and pray for the very best, don't we?" Lowe said evenly. "But don't count on it, Evan. If you'd seen him on Air Force One when he turned us down, you'd know what I meant. No, this is his show and he's going to try to crush us. How, I don't know, but he's going to try. We just have to tighten the screws and make sure we get him first."

• THE WESTIN PALACE HOTEL, APRIL 7, 11:40 A.M.

"Good morning, Victor."

"I was wondering when you were going to call, Richard."

Victor paced up and down in his underwear, his cell phone to his ear, his room curtains drawn against the brightness of midday. What was left of his room-service breakfast, coffee, cereal, ham and eggs and toast rested on a tray near the door. The TV was on in silence, tuned to a cartoon channel.

"You don't worry about that, do you? I always call when I say I will. Maybe sometimes a little bit later than you'd like, but I always do call, don't I, Victor?"

"Yes, Richard, you do."

"Did you go to the Hotel Ritz last night as I asked?"

"Yes, of course. I ordered a drink in the lounge just as you said and then took the elevator to the second floor with some other guests. Afterward I went up to the third floor, alone. You asked me to try and get to the fourth floor, where the president was staying. The elevator was blocked from going past the third floor, and the stairs to the fourth were controlled by what seemed to be security people. When they asked what I was doing I said I was just walking around while I was waiting for a friend to meet me for a drink. They said I couldn't go upstairs and so I thanked them politely and left. Then I went down and finished my drink as you instructed and went back to my hotel. That's where I am now."

"The security people did see you."

"Oh yes. But there was no trouble about it."