Gerrard bent over, breathing heavily, surprised by his exhaustion. The smog, he thought. The damned smog. 'Sorry.' He reached the net, shook hands with Madden, and toweled his sweaty face. 'I apologize for the clumsy match. I'll try hard to be more challenging next week.' As he had repeatedly, he rubbed his right, weeping eye.

'Yeah, since we started, that eye's gotten worse. It's red now. You'd better do something about it.'

'Maybe if I rinsed it with water.'

'Why not?' Madden shrugged. 'Give it a try. At least the club's got a reverse-osmosis purification system. Otherwise the chemicals in the water would make your eye even worse.'

They walked toward the side of the court while in the background other players continued their matches.

'So tell me,' Madden said. They stood with their backs to the clubhouse, taking care to block their conversation in case they were being monitored by directional microphones. Tell me about the president.'

'He plans to veto the clean-air bill.'

Madden shook his head. 'Dear Lord. The stubborn fool.'

'I guarantee I gave him my best arguments,' Gerrard said. 'But he just wouldn't budge. According to him, when the problem gets bad enough, American businesses will suddenly come up with a miracle cure.'

'What a joke. I didn't realize the president had a sense of humor, even if it is unintentional,' Madden said. 'When the problem gets bad enough? Doesn't he realize that the problem's bad enough already?'

'To him, it's like the mounting budget deficit. Let the next generation take care of it. Right now, he says his primary obligation is to hold the country together.' Gerrard toweled more sweat from his face.

Madden sighed. 'Well, it's not as if we didn't expect him to react that way. But we had to do the right thing. We had to give him the chance.'

Despondent, Gerrard draped his towel around his neck. 'However, it gets worse.'

'Oh?'

'The president feels betrayed. He's confused. In a panic. He can't comprehend how the opposition swayed so many Republican senators to switch party allegiance and vote for the bill. He's so furious about their defection that he claims he's doing his damnedest, using all his investigators, to find out what made them do it.'

'We expected that as well. Political reflex,' Madden said. 'But I can't imagine many senators confessing they were blackmailed. Because, after all, the next obvious question would be why were they being blackmailed, and I don't believe a senator would be stupid enough to destroy his or her career by confessing bribes, kickbacks, cocaine addiction, adultery, and a few other, even more serious matters our people discovered. Insider stock trading. Hit-and-run manslaughter while intoxicated. One case of incest. No, those senators will keep their mouths shut. They're experienced. Better yet, God bless them… at the same time damn them… they're practical. It's a pity we couldn't find more senators with something to hide. But on balance, it kind of gives me faith in the system. Not everybody's got a deep dark secret. Even so, if we had been able to scare just a few more senators, the vote would have been in our favor. And you wouldn't have had to compromise your position and break the tie by voting against the administration.'

Gerrard shrugged. 'No problem. I can tolerate the president's contempt. What is a problem is that after he vetoes the bill, and after he sends it back to the Senate, we'll have to put pressure on more senators to gain the two-thirds vote we need to override his veto.'

'Well…'Madden glanced around, assessing the security of their position. 'We've got the power. We've got the influence. All the same, the vote'll be close. In the meantime, when you continue not to cooperate with the president's policy…'

'Yes, that worries me,' Gerrard said. 'The president might restrict my activities even more. He might put me on ice until he can choose another vice president when the next election comes up. But it's vital that I keep going on those good-will missions. I have to keep coordinating our efforts.'

Madden stared down at the concrete surface of the tennis court.

'Yes, it's vital.' He straightened. 'Regrettably, he leaves us no choice. But the group knew – and they agreed - that we'd have to do it sooner or later.'

'And now,' Gerrard said, 'it'll have to be sooner.'

'Without question. The president showed the nation… not to mention the world… how brave he was when he went to that antidrug conference in Colombia last year. Cynical journalists were taking bets on when and how the cocaine lords would have him assassinated. But the president survived… I consider it miraculous… and now he's overconfident. Next week, he's flying to Peru for yet another drug-control conference. I'm not clairvoyant, but I think that this one time I can definitely predict the future. The president won't be coming back. Alive, at least. A week from tomorrow, we'll have a new president. A more enlightened one.'

'I hope I'm worthy of the responsibility,' Gerrard said.

'Well, as you're aware from your frequent good-will trips, you'll have a great deal of help from our counterparts.'

'Yes, by sending me on those trips, the president was his own worst enemy.'

Madden stared again toward the concrete surface of the tennis court.

'Something else?'

'Unfortunately.' Madden frowned.

'What's wrong?'

'We may have a security breach,' Madden said.

Despite his tan, Gerrard paled. 'What kind? How serious? Why didn't you tell me before? We might have to postpone-'

'I don't think that'll be necessary. Not yet, although if we have to, we will postpone next week's plan, of course. I didn't want to trouble you until now, because I thought the matter had been taken care of. However, it wasn't. You need to be informed in case you can use your authority to help us.'

'What kind of security breach?' Gerrard insisted.

'I told you last week that our search team had finally found the defector.'

'I remember,' Gerrard said impatiently. 'And I also remember that you assured me he'd been eliminated in the appropriate manner.'

'He was.'

'Then-?'

'The defector met a woman,' Madden said. 'The friendship was brief and recent, to all appearance casual. Our search team didn't consider it important until the woman showed unusual interest in the defector after his death. She went to the police and somehow managed to identify the charred body. With information she supplied, an NYPD Missing Persons detective was able to locate the defector's apartment and take the woman there. As soon as she left the apartment, she delivered photographs to a shop that specializes in quick development. Naturally the surveillance team wondered what was in the photos. They attempted but weren't able to obtain them. Curious, they decided to search the defector's apartment.'

'You mean they hadn't already?' Gerrard flinched.

'They admit the mistake. In their defense, the defector had assumed such deep cover that it didn't seem likely he'd risk keeping anything from his former life.'

'You're saying he did?

'In his bedroom.' Madden's jaw hardened. The surveillance team found an altar.'

Gerrard gasped.

'They destroyed it,' Madden said. 'More important, they took the statue.'

'But that still leaves the woman and the photographs.'

'Correct. Last night, a team tried to solve that problem.'

'Tried?'

They failed. In the meantime, she'd spoken with Brian Hamilton and…'

'Hamilton? What's he got to do with-? He died in a freeway accident last night!'

'His connection with the woman? I haven't told you the worst part. The woman's name. Theresa Drake.'