"Ellis Wright holds sway over virtually everything that moves or breathes around the president," Lattimore had said during his briefing, "except you, and to a much lesser extent, me. Nobody has any control over you other than the POTUS himself, and even he had better be careful trying to order you about. Before President Stoddard took office, his predecessor Brad Dunleavy allowed Wright to choose a military M.D. to be his personal physician, so it should come as no surprise that Wright resented having a civilian assume this position when Jim Ferendelli was appointed. I think it's safe to anticipate that he'll have issues with you for the same reason. Around here everything boils down to proximity and access to the POTUS, and first Ferendelli and now you nudge Wright back a notch in that regard."

"I'm the head of the White House Military Office," Wright, still standing, was saying. "The military's involvement with the smooth, efficient running of the presidency dates back to George Washington. We're responsible for communications, emergency operations, the airlift group, Helicopter Squadron One, Camp David, the White House Transportation Agency, the White House Mess, and"—he paused unsubtly for emphasis—"the White House Medical Unit. We're Military with a capital M. If the president so much as thinks of something he wants done, our people will have already started doing it. Is that clear?"

"Pretty clear, yes. You . . . um . . . want to sit down?"

Gabe stopped himself at the last possible moment from asking if the admiral also headed a department that knew anything about bow ties.

"I intend to say what I have to say and leave," Wright went on. "I can do both standing. You sound like something of a wiseass, Singleton. Are you a wiseass?"

Gabe cocked his head and hoped his expression said that he was open to any frank discussion, but he was not going to be easily pushed around.

"Admiral," he said, "I've been brought here to take care of the president. I'm board certified in internal medicine, and I've worked in big, gleaming hospitals and in Central American jungles. Most people who know me and know medicine think I'm pretty competent at what I do. If that's your definition of a wiseass, then maybe we have a problem."

"I told the president when he was considering a replacement for Dr. Ferendelli, and I'm telling you now: We have doctors in every branch of the military who are so knowledgeable, precise, and clinically competent that I doubt most doctors, including you, could carry their instrument bags. This is a military operation, and you are needed here about as much as a bull needs tits."

"The president doesn't seem to think so."

"I know all about what happened to you at the Academy, Singleton. Kicked out for being a drunk and killing a couple of people. You still a drunk? Pill popper?"