Minutes later, the Jeep pulled up to the White House gate and the man at the wheel handed over a NUMA identification card with the name and photo of Admiral James Sandecker. While one guard used a mirror on a pole to check underneath the vehicle for a bomb, the other returned the ill to the driver, a trim man with flaming red hair and a Vandyke beard.

Unknown

“Good day, Admiral Sandecker,” the guard said, with a broad grin. “Nice to see you again. It's been a few weeks. How are you today, sir?”

“I'm fine, Norman,” said Sandecker, “You're looking well. How are Dolores and the children?”

“Thank you for asking,” the guard said, beaming with pride. “She's great. Kids are doing well in school. Jamie wants to work for NUMA when she gets out of college.”

“Splendid. Make sure she calls me directly. The agency is always on the lookout for bright young people.”

The guard let out a hearty laugh. “It won't be for a while. She's only fourteen.” He jerked his thumb toward the White House. “They're all in there waiting for you, Admiral.”

“Thank you for letting me know,” Sandecker replied. “Please give my regards to Dolores.”

As the guard waved him through the gate, Sandecker thought how being gracious had more than its immediate rewards. By dealing warmly with guards, secretaries, receptionists and others considered low in the bureaucratic hierarchy, he had established an early-warning network all over the city. His lips compressed in a tight smile. Norman's wink and nod signaled Sandecker that his arrival had been scheduled after the others so they could confer before he arrived. He had a well-earned reputation for promptness, a habit shaped at the U.S. Naval Academy and honed by his years of flag rank. He always arrived exactly one minute before a meeting.

A tall, dark-suited man wearing the sunglasses and granite expression that marked him as a Secret Service agent checked Sandecker's ill again, directed him into a parking space and whispered into his hand radio. He led the admiral to an entrance, where a smiling young female aide met him and escorted him down the hushed corridors to a door guarded by a lantern-jawed Marine. He opened the door, and Sandecker stepped into the Cabinet Room.

Warned by the Secret Service man that Sandecker was on his way, President Dean Cooper Wallace was waiting to ambush the admiral with a handshake. The president was known as the most eager flesh-presser to occupy the White House since Lyndon Johnson.