Well, there were bound to be a few.

“Mr. Secretary of Agriculture.”

“Remove.”

The score was tied again. And they still had more than half of the cabinet members to poll.

“Ms. Secretary of Labor.”

She was shaking her head sadly as she answered, “Remove.”

“Mr. Secretary of Commerce.”

“Remove.”

Ben looked at the president firmly. “Don’t give up. It isn’t over yet.”

The president nodded, without much enthusiasm.

“Mr. Secretary of Housing and Urban Development.”

“Retain.”

See? Always hope…

“Mr. Secretary of Transportation.”

“Retain.”

Even odds again…

“Mr. Secretary of Energy.”

“Retain.”

Sweet God! Was it possible? They were ahead, with only a few votes outstanding. For the first time, Ben allowed himself to hope.

“Ms. Secretary of Education.”

“Remove.”

That’s okay-still several votes out there…

“Mr. Secretary of Veterans’ Affairs.”

“Remove.”

Well, it was predictable that he would side with the secretary of state.

“Mr. Secretary of Homeland Security.”

“Retain.”

Dear God, was it tied again? It could go either way at this point. On one hand, Ben was pleased to know that he had managed to persuade a few cabinet members-or perhaps they were simply loyal to the man who had appointed them. In any case, it wasn’t the rout it could have been. But why did it all have to come down to one vote?

“Someone correct me if I’m wrong,” Cartwright said, “but I believe that makes the vote of the Cabinet members exactly seven to seven. Looks like it all comes down to the last vote. Mr. Secretary of Health and Human Services, you’re making the final call.”

It was obvious he didn’t want that responsibility. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“I know, sir. But you’ve got it, anyway. How do you vote?”

It seemed an eternity passed before he finally spoke. “Remove.”

Ben felt as if his heart had just stopped. Damn! He knew the odds had been stacked against them, but to lose by one vote! He suddenly realized his whole body, especially his legs, were shaking. Had they been like that all along and he just didn’t know it? Did it take the crash of the adrenaline infusion before he realized what was going on with his own body?

He looked beside him at the president. Kyler was shaking his head, fighting to keep his expression even. He had to be devastated. The temptation to shout, argue, or break into tears must be profound. But he was managing to keep it together.

“It’s not your fault, Ben,” he said generously. “You did everything that could possibly be done. I’m indebted to you.”

“That’s not-” Ben began, but he was cut off by the admiral.

“The vote of the cabinet is eight for removal, seven for retention. The majority favors removal. Therefore, in my capacity as judge of this constitutional tribunal, I hereby declare that the Twenty-fifth Amendment will be implemented. Although the amendment provides for a resolution to be provided to the Congress, under the circumstances I’m sure everyone will agree that we will not delay the transition of power, but will only ask that this technicality be fulfilled as swiftly as possible. The president has been found incapable of performing his duties and is therefore relieved of said duties. The office of the president will be assumed by Vice President Swinburne.”

“The oath of office is in the football, with a Bible,” the president said helpfully. His voice sounded as if it was on the verge of breaking, but didn’t quite.

Did he mean the nuclear football? Ben wondered. The silver attaché case with all the codes for nuclear launch plus, apparently, a few other essential emergency items?

“Since I’m the judge, sort of,” Cartwright said, “I guess I can be in charge of that. Mr. Swinburne, let’s do it in the next room.”

“We can do it later,” Swinburne replied. “Have you noticed the clock?”

In fact, in the midst of all the excitement, Ben had actually forgotten about the ticking countdown. As he turned his head, the display changed to show only one minute remaining until Colonel Zuko’s grace period ran out.

In less than sixty seconds, another missile could be headed toward a nearby residential neighborhood. For the first time, Ben found himself almost grateful he had lost the trial.

“Get out of my way,” Swinburne growled, pushing away everyone who was between him and the communications station. “Let me talk to Zuko!”

Agent Zimmer glanced up at him calmly. “As you say, sir. We have a continuing connection. I’ll see if he will pick up the line again.” A few seconds later, he said, “I have the colonel for you, Mr. Vice President.”

“That’s Mr. President now,” Swinburne said, snatching the headset away from him.

“Colonel? This is Conrad Swinburne. I don’t have time to explain all the details, but I’m the commander in chief now, and I am immediately giving the order to-”

And then, without warning, all the lights in the bunker went out, including the lights on the communications station. Ben listened with horror to the slow, eerie dying whine of the electronic equipment powering down.

“What the hell just happened?” Swinburne bellowed in the darkness.

“I don’t know,” Zimmer said. Rustling noises told Ben he was trying a dozen things at once, trying to discern what was going on. “We seem to have lost power.”

“I thought the bunker had its own generator!”

“It does,” Zimmer said succinctly.

“Then what’s going on?”

“If you could just give me a minute to investigate-”

“We don’t have a minute! That madman will launch the missiles! Get him back!”

Ben heard Zimmer frantically pushing buttons, trying to raise a ghost in the machine. “I… can’t.”

“Then get me the Joint Chiefs. So I can give the order to have our troops withdraw!”

“At the moment I can’t do that, either.”

“Then let me the hell out of this bunker!”

“No.” Ben didn’t know how, but he got the distinct impression that Zimmer was restraining Swinburne.

“Get your hands off me, man. I’m the president now!”

“Which is exactly why you have to remain in the bunker. I’ll send someone else to check out the power problem.”

“Does anyone know the time?” Cartwright was asking the question.

Across the table, Ben detected a small green glow.

Secretary Rybicki had a glow-in-the-dark watch.

“The time… is up,” he said in quick, clipped tones. “It’s too late.”

Ben felt his heart pounding in his chest. Sarie reached for his hand. He took it and squeezed tightly.

He could feel Swinburne crumbling to the table. “After all that. After all that. We’re still too late.”

The bunker fell eerily quiet. When Swinburne spoke again, he spoke for them all.

“Oh, my God,” he said, and his words seemed to contain all the pain of tens of thousands of innocent civilian lives. “Oh, my dear God.”