Gabe flashed on the desert behind his ranch. The sun would be setting just about now. The perfect time for a ride.

What in the hell was he doing here?

"Go ahead," he said. "But you should know that I have no reason at this point to trust anything you tell me."

"I understand. With lobbyists and spin doctors and hidden agendas on every corner, this town is justifiably famous for people playing fast and loose with the truth, and I'm afraid that as a political advisor, I'm hardly blameless in that regard myself. Even now, the guests downstairs have been apologized to and told that the president has a migraine headache, some asthma, and some sort of gastric upset, and that you're attending to him. The press will be next."

"Go on," Gabe said, picturing the truth being batted about like a badminton shuttlecock.

"First of all," Lattimore went on, "remember that when you first came upstairs, I asked Agent Griswold to send for the military aide who is entrusted with The Football. We talked about The Football when you first arrived in town."

"Believe me, I was paying attention. That sort of stuff is not easy to ignore."

"Then I may have told you that among other things, the briefcase contains the papers necessary to hand over control of the government to Vice President Cooper. The military aide is waiting out there in the foyer right now, Gabe. Ultimately the decision as to what is best for your patient and for the country will be up to you."

"Go on."

"I'm sorry, truly sorry, that we weren't more forthcoming about these episodes in the first place. We had come to an uneasy agreement with Jim Ferendelli that so long as the situation didn't worsen, he would continue to try and come up with a diagnosis. Then, when he disappeared the way he did, we three have been in a quandary about what to do next. The president and First Lady felt that you were the only one who would step in and continue Jim's investigation into the situation, while at the same time giving the president the chance to be reelected."

"Gabe, the country needs him," Carol said. "The world needs him. But not if the price of that service is his mental health."

"Carol, if Drew was an exam question, and there was only one right answer, I would have to say that his neurological presentation today and the history you've given me add up to some sort of stress disorder. That is not a desirable condition in the man with his finger on the big, red button. It seems like with each episode he's drifting farther and farther from reality."

"But in between these episodes," Lattimore said, "the president has been as focused and energetic as he's ever been, and I mean that. He's gotten the Koreans and Iran to back off and allow nuclear inspections. That's major. The new trade agreements with Mexico and China have already brought us the lowest unemployment in a dozen years. He knows that the only solution to the drug problem in our cities is to deliver hope for the future in the form of education, and already he's gotten more money for schools than the last two administrations combined. He's pushed through more legislation, more of the pieces of his populist agenda, than anyone ever thought he could, and with the polls predicting the shift to a friendly Congress, there's no telling what he could accomplish in the next four years. This is no ordinary man, Gabe."

"Magnus, this man"-Gabe gestured down at Stoddard, who had yet to move except for the rise and fall of his chest-"has the authority and the power to destroy everything. Everything! And he may be losing his mind."

"There's got to be something causing this besides stress," Carol said. "I'm certain of it. You heard him answer your questions. He's absolutely brilliant. You had barely asked the questions before he produced the answers. Gabe, you're worried that Drew has the power to destroy everything, but he also has the power and the vision to change the world for the better as no president-no person-ever has."

"This upcoming election is by no means a lock," Lattimore added. "Dunleavy still has a lead in most of the red states, and the religious right is starting to get mobilized and organized again. Their political machine weakened when Dunleavy lost the last election, but there's strong evidence they're regrouping. Do you remember Thomas Eagleton?"

"No… Wait, maybe. Yes, yes, I do. He was McGovern's vice presidential nominee in, what, seventy?"

"Seventy-two. McGovern wasn't going to beat Nixon no matter what, so none of the Democratic biggies would run with him. So he picked Eagleton, a nice enough senator from Missouri. Only McGovern's half-baked research didn't uncover that the man had several psychiatric hospitalizations for depression, which included electroshock therapy. The negative press made McGovern seem like anything but fit to lead this country, and forced Eagleton to quit."

"He was replaced by Sargent Shriver, the Peace Corps guy. I remember now."

"It was even worse with Dukakis. He was ahead in the polls when all of a sudden word started to circulate that he had been treated for depression. Rumor. Pure unsubstantiated rumor. But the result was a dramatic shift in the polls, and that scene in the tank notwithstanding, he could never catch up."

"I understand what you're saying."

"If word gets out about these episodes of the president's, all the king's horses and all the king's men aren't going to be able to help us. And the most important thing, as Carol said, is that in between episodes, he's as sharp and in command as ever."

At that instant, as if on cue, Andrew Stoddard's eyes fluttered open. He looked to his left at his wife and chief of staff, then to his right at Gabe.

"Dr. Singleton, I presume," he said, sweeping his tongue across his parched lips.

"Hey there. Welcome to our world."

"This doesn't look good. Another episode?"

Gabe nodded.

"Honey," Carol said, "are you okay?"

"Doin' fine. Doin' fine. A little bit of a throbbing up here in my temples, but otherwise I feel great. I confess, though, that seeing the doc here like this is a little disconcerting-especially when he's supposed to be having dinner and Botswana flag cake with Calvyn Berriman."

"Do you remember anything about what happened?" Gabe asked.

"Not really. I vaguely remember not feeling well. Mostly in my stomach. Why? Did I insult someone we're supposed to be friends with?"

"No, nothing like that," Carol said. "We're just glad you're okay. Honey, Gabe's really upset that we didn't-"

"Carol, I can do this myself," Gabe said, with more snap to his voice than he had intended.

He looked from Carol to Lattimore and back, and considered whether or not to send the two of them out of the room so he could speak to his patient in private. Finally, though, he pulled a brocade chair over next to Stoddard, who had pushed himself up on one elbow.

"Drew, have you been totally aware of these episodes all along?"

"I have… except when I'm having them, of course."

"But you chose not to tell me about them before I agreed to come to Washington to care for you."

"That may have been a mistake."

"Drew, I appreciate your owning this, and not deluging me-at least not up front-with rationalizations for why you chose to keep me in the dark. And I understand why you and Carol and Magnus might have chosen that course. But it was a mistake. It was a lie. I know, I know, omission of something isn't technically a lie. But where I come from we don't draw that line."

"I'm sorry, Gabe. I truly am. There was so much going on, and so much pressure to stabilize the situation surrounding Jim's disappearance, and I so desperately needed you with me. Jim told me the episodes were probably some form of atypical migraines. He started me on Imitrex and told me they might never happen again. Meanwhile, he did all the tests and called in consultants."