Stokes set his briefcase on the floor and said, “Please.”

Kennedy reached out to grab a cup, her hand hovering over the top of it for a second. Looking across at Ross she said, “Cream and sugar, right?”

“Yes.”

Kennedy placed the cup on top of a saucer and filled it three quarters to the top with coffee. She then added cream and a cube of sugar before stirring it thoroughly. She set the spoon on the tray and placed the cup and saucer directly into Ross’s hands.

“Thank you.” Ross blew on the coffee for a second and then took a sip.

Kennedy poured Stokes a cup and slid it across as Carl returned with a crystal pitcher of water and four glasses. He set them on the table next to the coffee service and left.

Kennedy looked at Stokes and said, “I assume your people are happy with the information we put together on Gazich?” She took an empty glass of water and filled it to the top.

“Are you kidding me? The guy is as good as fried.”

“Good.”

Ross took another drink of coffee and said, “Any luck running down the financial leads?”

“No.” Kennedy frowned. “I’m afraid we ran into a wall there.”

“I thought you were pretty confident that you were going to make a connection?” Ross sounded a bit let down.

It took all the composure Kennedy could marshal just to sit in the same room with the man. To have to watch him fake concern was nearly unbearable. “More than anything, we floated that to see if we could spook some potential suspects into making a stupid move.” She took another sip of her water and then placed it on the table with both hands.

“That’s too bad,” Ross said with a disappointed voice. “But great work on tracking that other guy down.”

President Hayes entered the room with his suit jacket on. Carl closed the door behind him, and the other door to where the administrative assistants sat was also closed. “Sorry I’m late, gentlemen.”

Ross, Stokes, and Kennedy stood. Hayes marched over with his large coffee mug in hand.

“So how is everyone feeling today?” Hayes asked in an upbeat voice.

“Fine, sir,” Ross answered.

Kennedy kept her focus on Ross as the president and Stokes exchanged pleasantries. Hayes extended his coffee mug and asked Kennedy to top him off. She picked up the pot and filled his mug.

“Sit,” Hayes said. “So what can I help you gentlemen with this morning? Let me guess. Someone wants a pardon.”

“You are very astute, Mr. President,” Ross said with a big smile.

Kennedy saw perspiration beginning to form on Ross’s forehead.

“Before we get to that, though, I would like to apologize to Irene.”

Kennedy wondered where the snake could possibly be going with this.

Ross looked directly across the table at her. “I was wrong to doubt you over an article written by a reporter with an obvious ax to grind.”

“Thank you,” Kennedy lied in her most congenial tone.

“And I have spoken to Josh, and he has agreed that it would be a good idea for you to stay on as director of the CIA for as long as you’d like.”

“That’s great news,” President Hayes said with genuine relief.

Kennedy watched Ross reach up and tug on his shirt collar. His forehead was really beginning to shine, just as Juarez had told her it would.

“Irene,” President Hayes said, “do you have anything you’d like to say?”

Kennedy had a lot she’d like to say, but she didn’t want to spoil her very well rehearsed plan. Continuing the charade, she said, “I would be honored to serve your administration, Vice President Ross.”

“Good,” Ross said as he tugged at his collar. He blinked once and gave his head a quick shake. “Now about this pardon business.” He shook his head again and rubbed his eyes. “We have managed to get everybody at Justice who matters to sign off on this thing, which will really help insulate you from any fallout.” Ross stopped abruptly and took in a deep breath.

“Are you feeling all right?” asked Hayes.

“I’m not sure.”

Kennedy seized her opportunity. She reached across the table and handed Ross her glass. “Here, have some water.”

Ross eagerly grabbed the glass and took several large gulps.

Kennedy watched with a kind of analytical detachment. Juarez had explained how it would work. The drug that she had dropped into his coffee was designed to increase heart rate and bring on nausea, but more importantly it was designed to mask the second drug. The one that she had slipped into her own water glass after taking several sips. Unknown to all but a few, the Secret Service had a tiny camera in the ceiling of the Oval Office. It was for security reasons. Everything was taped unless the president specifically asked for the system to be turned off. This morning Kennedy wanted it on.

Ross took a few more sips of water and then looked at the president. His breathing seemed labored. “I think it’s my heart. I have a bad heart.” Suddenly he seemed to wilt. The water glass dropped from his hands, tumbling to the carpeted floor and spilling.

The president was out of his chair, coming to Ross’s aid. He grabbed him by the shoulders.

Ross looked across at Kennedy. His breathing was really shallow. “No one knows. I have a bad heart.”

I do, Kennedy thought to herself without an ounce of guilt. She stood and moved quickly to the door, fully aware that she must keep up the proper appearance. She yanked it open and yelled, “We have a medical emergency! Get the doctor up here and grab the defibrillator!”

Kennedy hustled back to the sitting area. Ross was slumped forward in Hayes’s arms. “Let’s get him on the floor,” Kennedy yelled as she grabbed the end of the coffee table and dragged it from between the two couches.

Hayes and Stokes grabbed Ross and laid him on the floor. Kennedy picked up the fallen water glass and stood over the vice president-elect for a moment until she was forced to back away as the first agents arrived. The room was filling up with people fast. Kennedy looked over and saw Carl standing in the doorway that led to the president’s private dining room. Special Agent Warch appeared at his side just as they had planned. He pointed at the coffee table and said something to Carl. The fastidious Navy steward hurried over to the table and began clearing the dishes as more and more bodies piled into the room. With a steady hand Kennedy set the water glass on Carl’s tray and walked around the couch on the left to retrieve her purse. The doctor arrived a half minute later and yelled for everyone to clear the room. Kennedy took one last look at Ross’s pale face and left the Oval Office.

Rapp stood in front of Kennedy’s desk. He was wearing the same clothes that he’d had on in Geneva. He was exhausted and in desperate need of sleep, but he was even more desperate to find out just how in the hell Mark Ross ended up dead in the Oval Office. They’d landed shortly after 10:00 a.m., when one of the mechanics at the hangar told them about Ross. Rapp tried for close to an hour to get ahold of Kennedy but she wouldn’t pick up. Finally, one of her secretaries told him she was on her way back to Langley. Rapp made a beeline for CIA headquarters and found Kennedy sitting alone in her office, writing in a file.

“I see you didn’t bother to wait for me,” Rapp said.

Kennedy finished writing a note and closed the file. “Jose said we needed to handle this one with a deft touch.”

“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Kennedy didn’t want to argue with him. “An opportunity presented itself.”

“I see that. A fucking heart attack in the Oval Office. Whoever pulled that one off has got a gigantic set of balls.”

Kennedy took off her reading glasses and leaned back in her chair.