Hayes smiled as he walked across the office, his right hand extended. "I think we've met before, haven't we?"

"More or less...yes, sir."

"Peggy," said Stokes, "was a big part of what went down this morning. She was the one bringing everything together on the domestic front."

"Well then you have my gratitude and my thanks." The president clasped her hand with both of his.

Her boss had just exaggerated quite a bit, but Stealey wasn't about to argue with him. If they wanted to give her credit, who was she to argue? "Thank you, sir."

Kennedy hung up with General Flood and joined the group. "Hello, Peggy."

"Good morning, Doctor Kennedy." Stealey was surprised that Kennedy had remembered her name. They had met only twice before, and both times in a large group.

"General Flood says SEAL Team Six found a sizable amount of molded C-4 plastique explosives. Based on the initial estimate they are guessing that the explosive charge was designed to be placed around the bomb's physics package we found in Charleston."

"An implosion device."

"Exactly."

"What about the other two ships?" asked the president.

"The search is underway, but nothing so far."

"We're not thinking a second bomb at this point, are we?" asked Hayes.

"It's too early to rule that out completely, but based on the pattern we're seeing my guess is we're going to find other key components used to assemble a full-up nuclear weapon."

"How far are the other two ships from the coast?"

"Over sixty miles. The Coast Guard is handling the situation with the Navy providing backup."

"When can we expect an answer?"

"Within the hour. The initial sweep on each vessel came up negative for nuclear material. Now they're moving cargo around to get at the specific containers."

"Let me know as soon as we find anything out."

"I will." Kennedy checked her watch. "If it's all right with you, sir, I'd like to go down to the Situation Room, and get caught up on the complete picture."

"By all means. I'll join you in a little bit."

Kennedy left, and Jones came over to the group, a look of exasperation on her face. "The press...I swear there are times when I think the Communists had the right idea."

Everyone laughed.

"What's the problem now?" asked Hayes.

"Nothing. At least nothing I need to concern you with at the moment."

"You sure?"

Jones hesitated. "I've called a strategy meeting in thirty minutes. It can wait until then. The simple fact that you're physically here at the White House has taken the wind out of their sails for the moment." The chief of staff ran a hand through her tousled hair.

"Val," said Stokes, "I'd like you to meet Peggy Stealey, my deputy assistant attorney general in charge of counterterrorism."

Stealey shook Jones's hand and noted the dark circles under the chief of staff's eyes. Suddenly, she didn't feel so bad about her appearance.

"Peggy Stealey," Jones repeated the name as if she'd heard it before. There was a spark of recognition in her eyes and she said, "Pat Holmes."

"Yes." Stealey smiled. "Pat says you're the sharpest person in town."

Jones nodded in agreement and gave the president a little backhanded pat to the stomach. "Did you hear that?"

"You don't hear me arguing, do you?" Hayes threw up his hands.

"You'd better not." She turned her attention back to Stealey. "You and I need to talk. Pat told me about your dinner the other night, and I couldn't agree more."

Hayes ebbed and flowed on the issue of wanting to know what his political handlers were up to. Often, their preparation and strategizing were nothing more than background noise, but there were times when their thirst for victory turned to outright foolish scheming.

As he looked back and forth at Jones and this striking Stealey woman, Hayes decided he wanted to know what the chairman of the Democratic National Committee and these two women were up to. "What are you plotting behind my back now?"

Stealey was a perfectionist who fretted about details only up to a point. It was all part of her constant quest for victory. The details mattered in preparation, but once the trial or debate started she focused on the big picture and took charge.

Stealey didn't wait for Jones to field the question. "There's a consensus over at Justice, sir, that the Patriot Act is too big a reach. We've got some landmark cases working their way through the system toward the Supreme Court. The way the calendar looks right now those decisions will be handed down late summer through early fall."

"In the final months of your reelection campaign," Jones added.

"The consensus, sir," Stealey said, "is that the court is going to embarrass us. And not just once. We're looking at a series of stunning defeats."

The president thought that after what had almost happened this morning, the Patriot Act should, if anything, be strengthened. "Your timing on this isn't so hot." Hayes fired his rebuke with a stern frown on his face. "I don't know if either of you noticed, but a group of terrorists just came awfully close to sneaking a nuclear weapon into our country."

Stealey stood tall, fixed Hayes with a look, and said, "Mr. President, I respectfully disagree. The timing couldn't be better to address this issue."

Attorney General Stokes took a half step back and watched his old lover go to work. Stokes noted that she was hiding her tendency to condescend. Her words were firm but respectful. Pleading, but not desperate. She piled up fact after fact and in the end brought in the political angle in a very deft manner. Stokes had seen her do it before, and he knew the president well enough to understand that he stood no chance. Stokes and Jones exchanged a quick look, and the president's chief of staff raised an impressed eyebrow. Stokes allowed himself to think about the Democratic National Convention this summer. He pictured himself making one of the key primetime speeches, and then he pictured the president announcing to the fevered crowd his new running mate. It was all there for him to grab.

ALABAMA-GEORGIASTATELINE

Manny Gomez felt like he was coming down with something. One minute he was sweating, then the next minute he was freezing. He tried to remember if he'd drunk anything while in Mexico, but he could have sworn he hadn't. He was always careful to bring his own water. He hadn't even stayed the night. He'd simply crossed over the border at Laredo, picked up his load, and then crossed right back.

He now found himself going 80 mph down Interstate 20 with Alabama in his rearview mirror, Georgia dead ahead, and a general discomfort all over. He'd been behind the wheel for nearly fifteen hours, and if he was going to make it back to his son's baseball game, he would have to dump his load, get out to the distribution center in Forest Park, pick up the new load for the trip back to Texas, and then get out of the city before the afternoon rush hour started.

He had it all figured out. He'd made the trip along I-20 enough times to know where the troopers set their speed traps, where the good food was, where to stop for sleep, and even more importantly where not to stop. There was a nice little truck stop outside Vicksburg, Mississippi, where he could eat, shower, and grab four to five hours of sleep before he made the big push across Louisiana and Texas the next day. He'd deliver his load in San Antonio and be home to Laredo in time to pack the cooler and maybe even play a little catch with his son before the game.

Tomorrow night was the first round of the big Memorial Day weekend baseball tournament. His son, Manny Jr., was to take the mound at 9:00 p.m. for a classic Southwest Texas baseball game under the lights. His wife and daughter were almost as excited as the boys were. A baseball nut since he was a kid, Gomez had never bought into the line that football was the heart of Texas. Anyone who thought that should get out and drive around Laredo on a summer night. You could scarcely make it a mile without coming across an illuminated ball field, occupied by players ranging in age from four to sixty. From little league to senior league, baseball ruled in Texas.