"The Secretary is quite correct," said Fawcett. "Congress still has to appropriate the money, and considering their present mood against Soviet troop incursions along the Iranian and Turkish borders, passage of your programs will most certainly die and be buried in committee."

The men around the table felt uneasy, all of them realizing that the President's administration would never function from a granite base of cohesion again. Differences would arise that had been held in check before. From now on, reverence for teamwork was gone and the line holding personal likes and dislikes broken. Respect for the President and his office had melted away. They understood only a man like themselves, with more faults than they cared to acknowledge. The realization lain a cloud upon the room and they looked to see if the President recognized it too.

He sat there, a strange expression of wickedness spreading across his face, his lips drawn back in cold anticipation of a triumph yet to come.

"I do not need Congress," he said cryptically. "They will have no voice in my policies."

During the short walk from the Cabinet Room to the South Portico, Douglas Oates made up his mind to submit his resignation as Secretary of State. The President's rude act of freezing him out of the negotiations with Antonov was an insult he refused to forgive. There was no turning back as the decision was reached and cemented. He smelled catastrophe in the air, and he wanted no part of it.

He was standing on the steps awaiting his official car when Brogan and Emmett approached.

"Can we have a word with you, Doug?" Emmett asked.

"I'm not in a mood for conversation," Oates grumbled.

"This is critical," Brogan said. "Please hear us out."

His car was not yet in sight on the drive, so Oates shrugged wearily. "I'm listening."

Brogan looked around him and then said softly, "Sam and I think the President is being manipulated."

Oates shot him a sarcastic stare. "Manipulated, hell. He's fallen off his track, and I for one refuse to be a party to his madness.

There's more to the sinking of the Eagle than he let on, and he never did explain the whereabouts of Margolin, Larimer and Moran. I'm sorry, gentlemen; you two can be the first to know. As soon as I get back to the State Department, I'm clearing out my desk and calling a press conference to announce my resignation.

Then I'm taking the next plane out of Washington."

"We suspected what was on your mind," Emmett said. "That's why we wanted to catch you before you went off the deep end."

"What exactly are you trying to tell me?"

Emmett looked at Brogan for help and then shrugged. "The idea is difficult to put across, but Martin and I believe the President is under some sort of . . . well . . . mind control."