Because of the large number of dignitaries attending the state dinner, the Navy captain who was covering the medical office had elected to stay in-house. Gabe dropped off his medical bag and gave the man the line Lattimore and he had concocted and disseminated first to the dinner guests, then to the press, that the president had been seized by a combination of his asthma, migraine, and severe gastroenteritis and had specifically asked his personal physician to attend to him until the attacks were resolved.

More lies.

Edgy and uncertain about the decisions he had made throughout the night, medical and political, Gabe allowed Treat Griswold to accompany him down the elevator and out of the White House to the senior staff parking area on West Executive Boulevard. The Eighteen Acres, as the White House compound was known, was eerily quiet. The two of them made the trip in pensive silence, bound by the enormity of the drama in which they each had played a part.

Bull-necked Griswold, a loyal veteran of many years in the Secret Service, had signed on to take a bullet for Andrew Stoddard if necessary. Was the man raving incomprehensibly and rocking as if trying to shake demons from his mind a person he would want to die for? Gabe wanted to ask that question of the agent but knew he never would.

If they only knew, Gabe was thinking. The press, the cabinet, the Congress, the Chinese, the Israelis, the Arabs, the terrorists, the American people—if they only knew what had transpired this night in the presidential residence.

He wondered about those men who had preceded Drew Stoddard into the presidency. How many secrets had been kept on their behalf? How many lies had been told?

"You gonna be all right?" Griswold asked as they reached Gabe's car.

"Thanks for caring, Griz. Yeah, I think I'll be okay. I'm assuming you know most of what went on in there."

"I know as much as I need to know," the agent said. "He's a very special man, Doctor. We should do what we can to keep him around."

"I hear you. I'm not a hundred percent certain I agree with you, but I hear you."

"We've all got to do what we've got to do. Take care, sir. At the moment I don't envy you."

Gabe patted Griswold's massive shoulder. It was like patting a boulder.

"At the moment I don't blame you. Listen, let's not forget about taking that ride in the desert someday."

"I won't. Good luck, sir."

Griswold retreated the way they had come, leaving Gabe alone in the quiet.