Before being summoned to work in the heart of the White House, Gabe had never even visited the place—not as a tourist, not as a student, and not even as a midshipman at the Academy. He wondered how long it would take, if ever, for him to get used to walking up to the security station, being recognized by the guards, and, after a brief check of his credentials, strolling into the seat of the country's executive power. Now he smiled inwardly at the notion that, with Jim Ferendelli alive and at least making contact, he might be back on his ranch before he ever found out the answer.

Surprisingly, the outer door to the medical clinic was unlocked. He eased it open and stepped into the reception area. From behind the closed door to the bathroom and examination room a woman was singing steamy blues.

"This world ain't always tasty like candy. . . ."

Her tone was velvet, rich and husky—a captivating voice made to sing the blues. Gabe slowed his breathing and listened.

"That's what my mama once told me. . . ."

Ferendelli's photographs were just through the door to his office, but Gabe stood there, transfixed by the incongruity of hearing such a voice in such a place.

"Sometimes it'll shake you and bend you, try to upend you. . . ."

Probably someone from housekeeping, he decided. Someone who had pulled herself up from the wrong side of the tracks and was doing janitorial work to help support her family. A woman who would have made it big on American Idol if the show had only been airing when she was younger. Maybe even now friends and family had told her to audition . . . but she just smiled and shook her head. These were her blues, not something she wanted to share with the world.

"Knock you right off of your feet. . . ."

Gabe moved slowly through the doorway of his office. To his left were the photographs. To his right, the angle made it impossible to see the woman, who was cleaning either the bathroom, the cabinets, or the countertop. The song was too special to interrupt, so he moved silently to the wall and Jim Ferendelli's art. Gabe was hardly a connoisseur of photography, but this set, each picture labeled on its frame with a small engraved brass plaque, was pleasing and in some respects fascinating—studies in light and shadow, in angles and shapes and shading. A scene across the reflecting basin. A striking close-up of a portion of the Capitol. The blues he was listening to seemed to fit the grouping perfectly.

"So when those hard times come a calling, remember you've got to take the bitter with the sweet."

The third photo, more somber than the others, was titled: Anacostia from the Benning Street Bridge.

Anacostia.