Sarie sat up straight. It was obvious she hadn’t known anything about this.

“Was there a reason he couldn’t just arrange it in the normal fashion through his chief of staff?”

“Yes. He wanted it to be private. In fact, he didn’t want anyone to know about it.”

“Is that so hard?”

“For the president, yes. Remember, Air Force One carries reporters with it. They would notice an unexpected detour to Pittsburgh.”

“So how did you manage it?”

“After his second speaking gig, which was only about a hour away from where he wanted to go, we put an agent who resembled him into Cadillac One-the president’s usual car-and put President Kyler in another car almost equally well protected but not quite so high-profile. The press were told he’d gone out to do some shopping for his wife. When he finished with his meeting, he returned to Air Force One and no one was the wiser.”

“Did you accompany the president on this journey?”

“Of course. Anytime he’s out in public, I’m with him.”

“So did you learn where he was going?”

“I already knew where we were headed. That was a condition of the arrangement. We had to check out the individual in advance. And we had to do a security sweep of his apartment, where the meeting took place.”

“What was the reason for the meeting?”

Zimmer inhaled, then slowly released the air through his teeth. “The president wanted to talk him out of joining the Red Cross.”

“But hasn’t the president been an ardent supporter of the Red Cross?”

“So I gather.”

“Why did he want to talk anyone out of joining?”

“The president felt the assignment was too dangerous. Mr. Malik was planning to travel to one of the world’s most treacherous hot spots. The Middle East.”

“The president wanted to keep him out?”

“Exactly. But his arguments were unavailing. Mr. Malik departed the next day. We tracked his progress as long as possible-till he was beyond our supervisory range.”

“Once he was overseas?”

“Yes. At that point, he was beyond Secret Service supervision. But I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that the CIA was asked to keep an eye out.”

It was time to bring everyone else up to speed. Ben asked the critical question.

“Why was the president so concerned for the safety of this one individual?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You’ve heard what was centermost in his mind. How often he lamented that he had been a poor father.”

“What are you saying?”

Zimmer folded his hands in his lap. “I’m saying that, according to the president himself, Abe Malik is his son.”

Judging from the astonished reactions in the room, Ben surmised that Agent Zimmer had done a very good job of keeping the president’s secrets. “How can the president have a son that no one knows about?”

“A few people know. His wife. His daughter, Jenny. Me. Maybe a handful of others. He’s several years older than Jenny. I gather it was a pregnancy in a prior relationship, before he was married.”

So the president had an illegitimate son. A surprise-but did anyone really care these days? Sarah Palin’s daughter had had a baby out of wedlock, but that didn’t seem to stir up much controversy. Would this? Or would it just be passed off as a youthful indiscretion?

“Did Abe Malik join the Red Cross?”

“He did. He was a pilot, and they always need more experienced pilots. He was posted to the Middle East, as planned, where he ran several emergency supply runs of food and medicine. Most recently, he was piloting runs to the beleaguered people in the Benzai Strip.”

“And where is he now?” Ben asked.

“Haven’t you guessed?” Zimmer spread wide his hands. “He was flying the helicopter. The one that went down in Kuraq. The one the president has sent troops in to rescue.”

At last it all began to make sense. Everyone was talking at once, barely bothering to whisper.

Cartwright pounded on the table. “I will ask again that everyone please remain quiet so that we can proceed. Our time is running out!”

The din slowly subsided.

Surely now, Ben thought, people would understand why the president was determined to send troops into Kuraq-and why he wouldn’t back off and abandon the people who went down in the helicopter. Even when the missiles were pointed at his head, how could anyone expect him to abandon his own son?

Ben glanced down at the president. His head was hung, his eyes were downcast. Ben had brought out the testimony they needed if they were to have any chance of salvaging this presidency. But it had come at an enormous cost. His secret was out. And his powers of judgment were still in dispute.

Ben didn’t know if Kyler was making the correct foreign policy decision or not, but he knew this: it was not insane to want to protect your own son. Zimmer had provided a perfectly sane motive for the president’s decisions. And right or wrong, that was what they needed to keep him in office.

“I have no more questions,” Ben said. “Pass the witness.”

“Very well,” Cartwright said. “Mr. Swinburne, it’s your turn.”

Swinburne skittered back to the table. He seemed eager to proceed. If this new development had caught him by surprise-and Ben was certain it had-he was adjusting admirably.

“Agent Zimmer,” he began, “are you familiar with the Twenty-fifth Amendment?”

“Well, I’ve heard a lot about it since you showed up.”

“Are you familiar with its provisions?”

“Not really.”

“Basically, it provides for the removal of the president when he is rendered incapable. We primarily think about that in terms of situations involving death and disease, but those aren’t the only possible events that could cause a president to be rendered incapable.”

Ben knew where this was heading and he didn’t like it, though to be honest, the same idea had already occurred to him.

“Isn’t it possible,” Swinburne continued, “that the president could be so personally involved in a political scenario that he is unable to be objective?”

“I suppose that’s theoretically possible,” Zimmer said.

“In this instance, we now know that the president’s actions have at least in part been motivated by the fact that his only son is currently behind enemy lines. How is it possible that would not influence his decision making?”

“That’s not for me to say, sir.”

“But you must see how having a child at risk would skewer your thinking process.”

“I’ve never had children, sir. I wouldn’t know.”

“Even if you haven’t had children yourself, you must see my point. Couldn’t his own personal ties to the crisis leave him incapable of dealing with it in a rational manner? Or make him susceptible to improper influence-especially if Zuko captures his son?”

“Objection,” Ben said. “This whole line is inappropriate. Mr. Zimmer is a Secret Service agent, not a constitutional scholar.”

“I think that point is well taken,” Cartwright said. “Sustained.”

“I’m not asking him to render a legal opinion,” Swinburne said. “I want him to tell us, based upon his own personal observations of the president, whether he believes that the man can be objective when his son is in the line of fire.”

“I have never seen anything that suggested to me that the president is incapable of fulfilling his duty, not in this situation or any other.”

“Well, what about that streaking business? Was that just par for the presidential course?”

Zimmer shrugged. “It’s not the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Do you think the country would be well served by a naked president?”

“If I may remind you,” Zimmer said with admirable calm, “he didn’t do it.”

“But he might’ve. You thought he was going to.”

“That was my first impression. That changed later. But what does it matter? He didn’t.”