"Ah, but the election is not being held today," Stoddard said, as if the obvious were a revelation. "By the time President Stoddard's mental instability is exposed and he is forced to drop out of the race, the election will be almost upon us. In the resultant chaos, I feel certain that the American voters, led by the resurgent religious right and others in the silent majority, will cast their lots heavily with President Dunleavy."

"So these episodes your son has been having are merely experiments—"

"—to work out the most effective combination of medications," LeMar finished the sentence.

"Drugs," Gabe corrected. "Not medications, drugs—hallucinogenic, debilitating, deadly drugs that you have been feeding into the body of your only child. And just because he went and changed parties and politics on you. That is really disgusting."

"Politically expedient, yes," LeMar said, "but hardly disgusting. We have been playing political tricks on our candidates for as long as there have been candidates."

For the first time, his speech seemed somewhat pressured, as if his own rhetoric was getting more and more difficult for him to believe and to express.

Gabe forced himself to meet the mogul's imperious gaze.

Something isn't right, Gabe was thinking. The man seemed perfectly capable of vindictiveness. That was a given. But the extent to which he was taking revenge on his son seemed out of proportion to the hurt Drew's political metamorphosis had probably caused LeMar. It was as if he had chosen to retaliate against a fly with an elephant gun.

Something isn't right. . . . Something—

In that exact moment, Gabe took note of the way the man was dressed—his shoes, his slacks, his designer shirt, his carefully pressed windbreaker. They were the sort of clothes Gabe had seen recently—very recently. Thoughts that had been free-floating suddenly began dropping into place.

"Those were your clothes I saw in the closet at Lily's farm, weren't they," Gabe said suddenly. "Or should I say your farm."

"I don't know what you're—"

"You were her lover—her sugar daddy. You were the one who pushed the president and your daughter-in-law to nominate her for the new cabinet post, just in case, for any reason, your scheme failed and your son got elected."

"Nonsense," LeMar said, but his lie was a weak one.

"But why?" Gabe went on. "Why? No, wait . . . wait, I'll tell you why. Because you own that underground lab, that's why. The greatest medical nanotechnology scientists the world has to offer, all brought together in secrecy and under one roof. If the scientific world is still at alpha in the area of nanodrug delivery, you and your operation are approaching omega. You've lapped the field, Dad. Monopolies Are Us."

LeMar moved to deny the conclusion, then finally just took a step back, his arms folded across his chest, his expression proud.

"You've learned a great deal in a remarkably short amount of time, Doctor."

Gabe wasn't nearly done.