Margolin might have been the people's choice for the Presidency, but he was not the party's. Here his integrity and image as a "shaker and doer" worked against him. He too often refused to fall in line on partisan issues if he believed in a better path; he was a maverick who followed his own conscience.

The President watched Margolin disappear into the main salon, irritation and jealousy burning within him.

"What is Vince doing here?" Fawcett asked him nervously.

"Damned if I know," snapped the President. "He said he was invited."

Fawcett looked stricken. "Christ, somebody on the staff must have screwed up."

"Too late now. I can't tell him he's not wanted and to please leave."

Fawcett was still confused. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I, but we're stuck with him."

"He could blow it."

"I don't think so. Regardless of what we think about Vince, he's never made a statement that tarnished my image. That's more than a lot of Presidents could say about their VP'S."

Fawcett resigned himself to the situation. "There aren't enough staterooms to go around. I'll give up mine and stay on shore."

"I appreciate that, Dan."

"I can stay on the boat until tonight and then bunk at a nearby motel."

"Perhaps, under the circumstances," the President said slowly, "it would be best if you'remained behind. With Vince along, I don't want our guests to think we're ganging up on them."

"I'll leave the documents supporting your position in your stateroom, Mr. President."

"Thank you. I'll study them before dinner." Then the President paused. "By the way, any word on the Alaskan situation?"

"Only that the search for the nerve agent is under way."

The President's eyes reflected a disturbed look. He nodded and shook Fawcett's hand. "See you tomorrow."

Later Fawcett stood on the dock among the irritated Secret Service agents of the Vice President's detail. As he watched the aging white yacht cut into the Anacostia River before turning south toward the Potomac, a knot began to tighten in the pit of his stomach.

There had been no written invitations!

None of it made any sense.

Lucas was putting on his coat, about to leave his office, when the phone linked to the command post buzzed.

"Lucas."

"This is 'Love Boat,' " replied George Blackowl, giving the code name of the movement in progress.

The call was unexpected and like a father with a daughter on a date Lucas immediately feared the worst. "Go ahead," he said tersely.

"We have a situation. This is no emergency, I repeat, no emergency. But something's come up that isn't in the movement."

Lucas expelled a sigh of relief. "I'm listening."

" 'Shakespeare' is on the boat," said Blackowl, giving the code name for the Vice President.

"He's where?" Lucas gasped.

"Margolin showed up out of nowhere and came onboard as we were casting off. Dan Fawcett gave him his stateroom and went ashore. When I queried the President about the last-minute switch in passengers, he told me to let it rine. But I smell a screw-up."