"I assure you, Doctor, no one knows that fact better than I."

"Then why are you trying to kill him?"

"Not kill him. Why would I ever want to do that? I love him. I just can't have him spend another four years imposing his version of communism on the people of this country."

"So you want us all to believe that he is going insane."

"In a manner of speaking, yes. In another manner of speaking, he is. Kurt Vonnegut once wrote: 'We are what we pretend to be.'"

"So your son behaving as if he were insane means that he is."

"Precisely."

"Oh, that's just sweet. But Dad, Vice President Cooper shares almost all of Drew's political philosophy. And the polls say he would probably beat Dunleavy if the election were held today."

"Ah, but the election is not being held today," Stoddard said, as if the obvious were a revelation. "By the time President Stoddard's mental instability is exposed and he is forced to drop out of the race, the election will be almost upon us. In the resultant chaos, I feel certain that the American voters, led by the resurgent religious right and others in the silent majority, will cast their lots heavily with President Dunleavy."

"So these episodes your son has been having are merely experiments-"

"-to work out the most effective combination of medications," LeMar finished the sentence.

"Drugs," Gabe corrected. "Not medications, drugs-hallucinogenic, debilitating, deadly drugs that you have been feeding into the body of your only child. And just because he went and changed parties and politics on you. That is really disgusting."

"Politically expedient, yes," LeMar said, "but hardly disgusting. We have been playing political tricks on our candidates for as long as there have been candidates."

For the first time, his speech seemed somewhat pressured, as if his own rhetoric was getting more and more difficult for him to believe and to express.

Gabe forced himself to meet the mogul's imperious gaze.

Something isn't right, Gabe was thinking. The man seemed perfectly capable of vindictiveness. That was a given. But the extent to which he was taking revenge on his son seemed out of proportion to the hurt Drew's political metamorphosis had probably caused LeMar. It was as if he had chosen to retaliate against a fly with an elephant gun.

Something isn't right… Something-

In that exact moment, Gabe took note of the way the man was dressed-his shoes, his slacks, his designer shirt, his carefully pressed windbreaker. They were the sort of clothes Gabe had seen recently-very recently. Thoughts that had been free-floating suddenly began dropping into place.

"Those were your clothes I saw in the closet at Lily's farm, weren't they," Gabe said suddenly. "Or should I say your farm."

"I don't know what you're-"

"You were her lover-her sugar daddy. You were the one who pushed the president and your daughter-in-law to nominate her for the new cabinet post, just in case, for any reason, your scheme failed and your son got elected."

"Nonsense," LeMar said, but his lie was a weak one.

"But why?" Gabe went on. "Why? No, wait… wait, I'll tell you why. Because you own that underground lab, that's why. The greatest medical nanotechnology scientists the world has to offer, all brought together in secrecy and under one roof. If the scientific world is still at alpha in the area of nanodrug delivery, you and your operation are approaching omega. You've lapped the field, Dad. Monopolies Are Us."

LeMar moved to deny the conclusion, then finally just took a step back, his arms folded across his chest, his expression proud.

"You've learned a great deal in a remarkably short amount of time, Doctor."

Gabe wasn't nearly done.

"How much did that underground bastion of science and all those geniuses cost you to buy and develop, Dad? It had to be, what, billions? Tens of billions? As I recall, Forbes doesn't think you have quite that much. What did you do to get the money? How leveraged are you, Dad?"

"Stop that!"

"You rolled the dice on this, didn't you? Being in the top ten or top twenty wasn't enough. You wanted to be numero uno-the czar of the largest pharmaceutical empire the world has ever known. And your liberal son's platform of government control of nanotechnology would have forced you and your lab out into the open before you were ready. How many years will be lost if his policies are implemented, LeMar? How much of your money will go down the drain? Most of it? All of it? How many secrets will you have to share with the scientific community if your son gets reelected? This was never about political ideologies. How foolish of me to think it was."

LeMar Stoddard seemed suddenly restless, his demeanor less confident.

Was he squinting?

"I need you, Gabe," he blurted out suddenly.

"What?"

"I need you. I can make you rich beyond your imagination."

"Need me for what?"

"I need you to keep quiet about what you've learned, and I need you to tell the world when it's time that the rumors are true and the president and vice president have been deceiving the American public about the president's mental health."

"It was all about money," Gabe said, ignoring the plea completely. "Not one whit of political principle. Just money. Lily Sexton was your lover. Your confidante. Did you just pick up the phone and order her killed because she had become a liability? Which of those animals did you pick to do the job? Crackowski? Carl?"

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it, you arrogant sonofabitch? How many laughs have you gotten out of the irony that the very fullerenes and nanotubes that are going to make you rich beyond even your standards are the tools you and your stooge there used to deliver toxic chemicals to your son's brain?"

"You ungrateful little turd!" LeMar bellowed, his face suddenly flushed, his voice up half an octave. "After all I did for you when you were in such trouble-the money, the attorneys, the payoffs to reduce your sentence to the minimum. Yes, my naïve friend, there were payoffs. And… and now, too. Convincing the president to bring you to Washington. My apartment. My car."

The rhythmic squinting seemed more noticeable now, and his cheeks were nearly crimson. Gabe thought back to all the pills the tycoon was taking for high blood pressure.

"Take them back, LeMar," Gabe said. "The car, the apartment-the price tag is way too high."

"T-take it from me, Gabe, this president is not worthy of his office."

What is going on with his speech?

"The voters are supposed to decide that, Dad," Gabe said.

"You don't understand. I tell you, this presidency is not worth saving."

"Let me reason with him," Griswold cut in, brandishing his pistol. "I promise he'll come to understand."

"No, you creep!" a woman's voice cried out from the side of the hall. "I promise you'll come to understand."

From the corridor to the portcullis, Alison stepped into the room, her pistol leveled at Griswold from, perhaps, twenty-five feet away.

"Alison!" Gabe cried out.

"Set the gun down, Griswold. Set it on the floor and kick it away. Hard!"

Griswold seemed to be weighing his options; then, slowly, he did as Alison demanded.

"As you wish, ma'am," he muttered. "My, my, my, my, my."

"You should never have left me my radio, Griz. I caught up with you when you left all the others and flew back from Camp David to the White House. Seemed fishy then, seems fishy now."

"Those naughty girls," Griswold said, smiling in a most unsettling way. "They know perfectly well that insubordination will not be tolerated. I think a spanking is in order. Now, if you will be so kind, Agent Cromartie, it is my turn to demand that you put down your gun."