Gunn looked confused. "I don't understand."

"It's painfully simple, Commander. We live in a Machiavellian world. Leaders of unfriendly countries—enemies of the United States, if you will—armies of highly trained and skilled terrorists or just plain crazies, they all dream of destroying the White House and its live-in residents. Many have tried. We all remember the car that crashed through the gate, the lunatic who fired an automatic weapon through the fence on Pennsylvania Avenue, and the suicidal maniac who flew his plane onto the South Lawn. Any athlete with a good throwing arm could heave a rock from the street against the Oval Office windows. The sad fact is the White House is a tough target to miss—"

"That goes without saying," added Sandecker. "The number of attempts that were nipped in the bud by our intelligence services remains a deep secret."

"Admiral Sandecker is correct. The professionals who planned to assault the Executive Mansion were apprehended before their operation could get off the ground." Laird finished off his vodka and set the glass in a small sink before exiting the bus. "It is too dangerous for the First Family to eat and sleep in the White House. Except for public tours, occasional press conferences, social functions for visiting dignitaries and photo opportunities of the President meeting in the Rose Garden with the public, the First Family is seldom at home."

Gunn found it difficult to accept the revelation. "You're saying the executive branch of the government conducts business someplace other than the White House?"

"Ninety-five feet above us, to be precise."

"How long has this facade been going on?" asked Sandecker.

"Since the Clinton administration," answered Laird.

Gunn stared thoughtfully at the steel door. "When you consider the current situation at home and abroad, I guess now you see him, now you don't, does seem a practical solution."

"It seems a shame," said Sandecker solemnly, "to learn that what was once the revered home of our presidents has now been reduced to little more than a reception facility."

Sandecker and Gunn followed Laird out of the elevator across a circular reception room guarded by a Secret Service agent and into a library whose four walls were packed from floor to ceiling with over a thousand books. As the door was closed behind him, Sandecker saw the President standing in the center of the room, his eyes fixed on the admiral but showing no trace of recognition. There were three other men in the room. One Sandecker knew, the other two were unfamiliar. The President held a coffee cup in his left hand as Laird made the introductions.

"Mr. President, Admiral James Sandecker and Commander Rudi Gunn."