Three, and probably most important, Gerrard had a reputation for being compliant, not causing trouble, following the Republican party line, and hence he wouldn't be a rival to the president, who already anticipated the next election and didn't want anyone upstaging his take-charge personality.

But no matter how much the campaigning president's logic had made sense in theory, its practical effects had almost been disastrous. The public, the media, and political analysts had not merely been surprised by the president's choice; they'd been appalled.

'Gerrard knows more about tennis than he does about politics. He's more at home at a country club than he is in the Senate. He's got so much money he thinks everyone drives a Mercedes. He's never made a decision about anything without asking advice from all of his contacts, including his gardener. God gave him great looks, then went for a walk, and forgot to add brains.'

And on, and on.

Republican leaders had begged the future president to reconsider his choice for a running mate. Fearful, Gerrard had heard strong rumors that the president had almost relented but had finally concluded that to change his mind would make him look indecisive, a poor way to start an election campaign. So the president had kept Gerrard on the ticket but had distanced himself as much as diplomatically possible from his running mate, sending Gerrard to make speeches in the least important, least populated districts, exiling Gerrard to the boonies, in effect making him disappear from the voters' minds.

Due to several factors – the weak Democratic opposition and the president's strong connection with the previous revered administration – Gerrard's side had won the election, and the president had immediately distanced himself even more from Gerrard, using him as the token White House representative at the blandest of social functions, then sending him on innocuous goodwill missions around the globe. Lately, columnists had taken to calling Gerrard 'the invisible man'.

At least until four days ago.

Oh, yes, indeed.

Four days ago.

That was when Gerrard had become very visible and exercised his limited authority, shocking every political theorist in the country.

As Gerrard shut the door behind him, he noticed that the Oval Office was empty except for the president, Clifford Garth, who sat behind his wide polished desk in his high-backed bulletproof chair in front of a bulletproof window that overlooked the White House lawn.

The president was fifty-five, taller than he looked on TV, trim from the two miles he swam every day in the pool in the White House basement. He was narrow-faced, which sometimes gave his mouth an unfortunate pinched expression. He had authoritative dark eyebrows that contrasted effectively with a distinguished touch of gray in his neatly cut, short hair. His skin was normally tanned, from daily exposure to a sun lamp, but today the president's cheeks were vividly scarlet. His eyes – which as a rule displayed a calm, controlled, reassuring thoughtfulness – bulged and blazed with fierce emotion.

'Yes, Mr President? You wanted to see me?' Gerrard asked.

'See you? Damned right I want to see you.' The president stood with force. 'I waited as long as… I'd have told you to get here four days ago, but I needed that much time to control myself! Never mind the political liability. I didn't want to get arrested.'

Gerrard shook his head. 'I don't understand. Arrested, sir?'

'For murder.' Garth raised a rigid arm and gestured in a frenzy toward the ceiling, moving his index finger from left to right. 'Imagine the headline. Imagine my satisfaction. "President loses his mind, attacks vice president, throws the bastard across the desk in the Oval Office, and strangles the son of a bitch, making his tongue stick out." You dumb…! What the hell did you think you were doing? Just for fun, did you decide to pretend you had power? You stupid…!'

'Yes, I understand. I assume you're referring to the vote on the Senate's clean-air bill,' Gerrard said.

'My God, I'm stunned! I didn't know you had it in you! You've suddenly become a genius! You read my mind, Gerrard! You're right that's what I'm referring to! The Senate's clean-air bill!'

'Mr President, if we can discuss this calmly.'

'Calmly? This is as calm as I get when I'm… You dimwit asshole. In case you've had a memory lapse, I'll remind you! I'm the president. Not you! Now I haven't found out – yet! – how the opposition managed to sway enough of our senators to vote against us, but I guarantee – you can bet your future and your children's future – I will! But what gives me a shrieking headache…' The president shuddered. 'What I haven't found out… and what keeps me awake all night… and what makes me want to drive a pen through your heart… is why you turned against me! I almost dumped you three years ago! You ought to be grateful! I gave you a cushy job! No responsibilities! Just coast and go to banquets, try not to get too drunk, and when your Barbie-doll wife's not around, you've got the chance to screw any Republican groupie who's got big enough tits and knows how to keep her mouth shut, except when it's around your dick! So why didn't you know enough to keep your mouth shut? For God's sake, Gerrard, the vote on the clean-air bill was tied! Since you've gone simple on me, I'll remind you! The vice president's job is to break the tie, which means he votes for administration policy! But you voted against me! You broke the tie in the opposition's favor!'

'If you'll just listen for a moment, Mr President.'

'Listen?" Garth shuddered to the point of apoplexy. 'Listen? Idiot, I don't listen. You do. You're the assistant. I'm the boss. And what I say goes. Except that you don't seem to get the message!'

'The clean-air bill's a good one,' Gerrard said calmly. 'The atmosphere's polluted. It's poisoning our lungs. The latest report gives us forty years before the planet's doomed.'

'Hey, I'll be dead by then! What do I care? You want to talk about doomed? You're doomed. Come election time, you're out, pal! I need a V.P. who's smart enough to cooperate, which God help me I thought you were. But all of a sudden… and I don't understand this… you've got a mind of your own.'

'I voted according to my conscience,' Gerrard said.

'Conscience? Give me a break.'

'In my opinion, the bill ought to go further. This year, every day, in New York harbor alone, we've had an oil spill. Not to mention along every coast. Alaska. Oregon. California. New Jersey. Texas. My home state of Florida. Never mind the oil spills. Never mind the raw sewage in the rivers and harbors. Never mind the herbicides and pesticides in the drinking water or the leaks from nuclear plants. Let's just concentrate on the air. It's terrible. Government has to take control.'

'Gerrard, pay attention to realities. Our administration has to protect the industries that employ our voters, keep our economy stable, and pay taxes – admittedly not as much as they could, but hell, let's not forget those industries contribute to our dwindling balance of trade with foreign nations. The bottom line is, Gerrard…'

'Let me guess. When the crisis gets bad enough, we'll somehow deal with it.'

The president raised his jaw. 'Well, what a surprise. You finally got the idea.'

'The problem is…' Gerrard said. 'What you don't seem to grasp…'

'Hey, I grasp everything.'

'The crisis is now. If we wait any longer, we can't…'

'You've forgotten American knowhow. You've forgotten World War Two. American enterprise has shown, repeatedly, that it can solve every problem.'

'Yes, but…'

'What?'

'That was then. This is now. And we're not as enterprising as the Japanese.'