"How much did that underground bastion of science and all those geniuses cost you to buy and develop, Dad? It had to be, what, billions? Tens of billions? As I recall, Forbes doesn't think you have quite that much. What did you do to get the money? How leveraged are you, Dad?"

"Stop that!"

"You rolled the dice on this, didn't you? Being in the top ten or top twenty wasn't enough. You wanted to be numero uno—the czar of the largest pharmaceutical empire the world has ever known. And your liberal son's platform of government control of nanotechnology would have forced you and your lab out into the open before you were ready. How many years will be lost if his policies are implemented, LeMar? How much of your money will go down the drain? Most of it? All of it? How many secrets will you have to share with the scientific community if your son gets reelected? This was never about political ideologies. How foolish of me to think it was."

LeMar Stoddard seemed suddenly restless, his demeanor less confident.

Was he squinting?

"I need you, Gabe," he blurted out suddenly.

"What?"

"I need you. I can make you rich beyond your imagination."

"Need me for what?"

"I need you to keep quiet about what you've learned, and I need you to tell the world when it's time that the rumors are true and the president and vice president have been deceiving the American public about the president's mental health."

"It was all about money," Gabe said, ignoring the plea completely. "Not one whit of political principle. Just money. Lily Sexton was your lover. Your confidante. Did you just pick up the phone and order her killed because she had become a liability? Which of those animals did you pick to do the job? Crackowski? Carl?"

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it, you arrogant sonofabitch? How many laughs have you gotten out of the irony that the very fullerenes and nanotubes that are going to make you rich beyond even your standards are the tools you and your stooge there used to deliver toxic chemicals to your son's brain?"

"You ungrateful little turd!" LeMar bellowed, his face suddenly flushed, his voice up half an octave. "After all I did for you when you were in such trouble—the money, the attorneys, the payoffs to reduce your sentence to the minimum. Yes, my naïve friend, there were payoffs. And . . . and now, too. Convincing the president to bring you to Washington. My apartment. My car."

The rhythmic squinting seemed more noticeable now, and his cheeks were nearly crimson. Gabe thought back to all the pills the tycoon was taking for high blood pressure.

"Take them back, LeMar," Gabe said. "The car, the apartment—the price tag is way too high."

"T-take it from me, Gabe, this president is not worthy of his office."

What is going on with his speech?

"The voters are supposed to decide that, Dad," Gabe said.