Very generous of Swinburne, but what the hell was Ben supposed to do with this witness? She looked as if she couldn’t go on, at least not without a recess, something the judge couldn’t and wouldn’t grant. He didn’t doubt that she had been telling the truth. There was no chance that he was going to impeach her on cross. Her credibility and honesty were ironclad.

Still, he had to do something. He just didn’t know what that might be.

He stood and addressed the witness. Some of the people in the room were absolutely glaring at him. They didn’t want him to go on. They’d heard enough.

“Sarie,” Ben said, “I know this has been a terrible ordeal for you, and in most circumstances I would ask for a recess before proceeding. In this case, though, there just isn’t time. Do you think you could answer a few questions for me? I promise I won’t go on too long.”

She looked up. Her face was pale. “I’ll do my best.”

“Sarie, the whole purpose of this proceeding is to determine whether the president is incapable of serving as president due to some mental infirmity. The president can be as odd as he wants. That doesn’t matter. It’s only important if it prevents him from performing him official duties.”

“I understand.”

“And I know you saw some strange things. But I haven’t heard anything that suggests that the president couldn’t do his job.”

Ruiz slapped himself on the forehead, looking at Ben as if he had lost every marble he ever had.

“You’ve testified that these episodes come without warning or any discernible trigger.”

“That’s true.”

“And you’ve said that they eventually pass.”

“Yes.”

“After a brief time, he seems normal again. Able to perform as president?”

“Absolutely.”

“Has he failed to accomplish any work as a result of these odd interludes?”

“Never once.”

“Has he ever been unable to respond in a crisis or to take an appropriate action?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Does his ability to make decisions seem impaired?”

“Not after the episodes are over. He’s the most decisive man I’ve ever known.”

“Then would it be fair to say that you do not perceive him to be rendered incapable?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“But what about during the episodes?” Swinburne barked. “What if a crisis breaks out while he’s having one? Like now!”

Admiral Cartwright glared. “It is not your turn to speak, Mr. Swinburne. Please desist.”

Swinburne folded his arms across his chest. “My apologies,” he grumbled.

“So, Sarie,” Ben continued, “I gather you would not want to label the president incapable. Or insane.”

She hesitated. “No. I would not want to.”

Not quite good enough. Ben wanted her to distinguish these odd episodes from genuine and severe insanity. He tried again. “Sarie, do you have any experience with people suffering from mental illness?”

“Yes, actually I do.” She folded her hands in her lap. “You may not know this, but one summer when I was in college I worked at a state hospital. In the mental ward.”

Ben’s stomach was churning. Why did he suddenly have the distinct feeling he was going to regret having asked this question?

“I spent the whole summer changing sheets and dishing out pills. Caring for the inmates. It was educational-but also very chilling. I had never been around such disturbed people in my entire life. I never got used to it. There was just something… different about them. I’m not talking about their behavior. I mean, when I looked into their eyes. Shakespeare says the eyes are the window to the soul, and I guess that’s right, because whenever I looked into these people’s eyes, it seemed like something was missing. Something was… wrong.”

Ben tried to cut her off, but she ignored him. Tears began to trickle out of her eyes. “And when I sat beside President Kyler on the roof that night and I looked into his eyes, I saw the same look. The same vacancy. The same wrongness.”

The whispering in the room spiked. Cartwright pounded on the table, but it made little difference. On the television, the cabinet members watched with gaping mouths.

Sarie tried to control her broken voice. “I’m sorry, Roland. I’m so, so sorry. You are a good man. But you are not well. You need help. And I hope you will get that help, because I know there is so much you can contribute to the world. But not now.” Tears flowed. Her voice rose an octave, then cracked altogether. “I am sorry, but it’s true. We’re in a crisis situation, and we need a leader, someone dependable, not someone who might start having an irrational episode at any moment-might be having one now for all we know!”

She reached out to him with both hands. “Roland, you need to step down. You need to do it now. For everyone’s sake. Please!”

After that, the room descended into chaos. Cartwright tried to regain control, but it was useless. Everyone was talking at once, expressing their opinion, their contempt, their outrage. Ben couldn’t pick up the televised conversation, but he could see the discussion among the cabinet members was equally agitated. Everyone was talking.

Everyone except the primary subject of the chatter. President Kyler rose, quietly slipped into the other room, and closed the door behind him.

Swinburne moved toward Admiral Cartwright. “Judge, we rest our case.”

“I thought you might.”

“Furthermore, given what we’ve heard, and given the exigencies of time, I will ask again that we move to an immediate roll call vote. Honestly, Kincaid, what could you possibly put in evidence at this point that would change anyone’s mind?”

Which was exactly the question Ben had just been asking himself.

Ben was not a quitter. Not ever. Went totally against all his instincts, all his training.

But what was there to do? Kyler had been shown to have a serious medical condition, diabetes, and to be dangerously unstable, threatening to kill himself in front of millions of people. It was obvious he couldn’t function during these episodes. Wasn’t it?

What was left to do?

Of course, Kyler could’ve said the same thing when Ben had come to ask him a special favor…

Ben closed his eyes. He would not give up on the man. But he needed to talk to him. And he needed a minute to think. To plan. To come up with… something.

Because if he didn’t come up with something fast, something new, something unexpected, there was no question about how the vote would go. Not only was Ben certain that the president would be removed if the vote were taken at that moment, but he suspected it would be unanimous.