His ears regained a partial sense of hearing and picked up a strange thumping sound, which Pitt wrote off as blood pounding in his head. The sea rose above his feet now, and the barge shuddered; it was about to go under.

A nightmare world closed in on him. A black shape loomed above, and then his hand reached out and clasped another hand.

SPEAKER ALAN MORAN, his face wreathed in a confinent smile, circulated around the East Room of the White House conversing with his aides and inner circle of advisers while awaiting final word of the trial taking place on the floor of the Senate.

He greeted a small group of party leaders and then turned and excused himself as Secretary of State Douglas Oates and Defense Secretary Jesse Simmons entered the room. Moran came over and held out his hand, which Oates ignored.

Moran shrugged off the snub. He could well afford to. "Well, it seems you're not of a mind to praise Caesar, but you haven't a prayer of burying him either."

"You've just reminded me of an old gangster movie I saw when I was a boy," Oates said icily. "The title fits you perfectly."

"Oh, really? What movie was that?"

"Little Caesar."

Moran's smile turned into a sinister glare. "Have you come with your resignation?"

Oates pulled an envelope partway out of his inside breast pocket.

"I have it right here."

"Keep it!" Moran snarled. "I won't give you the satisfaction of bowing out gracefully. Ten minutes after I take the oath I'm holding a press conference. Besides assuring the nation of a smooth succession. I intend to announce that you and the rest of the President's Cabinet planned a conspiracy to set up a dictatorship, and my first order as chief executive is to fire the whole rotten lot of you.

"We expected no less. Integrity was never one of your character traits."

"There was no conspiracy and you know it," Simmons said angrily.

"The President was the victim of a Soviet plot to control the White House."

"No matter," Moran replied nastily. "By the time the truth comes out, the damage to your precious reputations will have been done.

You'll never work in Washington again."

Before Oates and Simmons could retort, an aid rushed up and spoke softly in Moran's ear. He dismissed his enemies with a snide look and turned away. Then he stepped to the center of the room and raised his hands for silence.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced. "I've just been informed that the Senate has voted for conviction by the required twothirds.

Our beleaguered President is no longer in office and the Vice Presidency is vacant. The time has come for us to put our house in order and begin anew."

As if on cue, Chief justice Nelson O'Brien rose from a chair, smoothed his black robes and cleared his throat. Everyone crowded around Moran as his secretary held what was dubiously touted as his family Bible.