Gabe studied her face. Even through the gloom, he could see the tension and hurt. They seemed real. Then he reminded himself that he had already bought her story once tonight. These people were good at manipulating the truth—very good. He turned back to the river. She was so attractive to him that it was hard to hang on to the notion that she might not be someone he could trust. At the same time, it was odd to think that while he was sitting there, listening to her this way, he was managing to avoid the issue of whether or not he should be instituting measures to remove the President of the United States from office.

Tough night.

"So what happened?" he asked.

"Well, because in reality I had done nothing wrong, the conflict became sort of a Mexican standoff, even though I knew that sooner or later, the surgeons would increase their attack and I'd lose. Finally, in a secret meeting, the head of the hospital offered me a deal. If I left the hospital and stopped making trouble, he would see to it that I got an unconditionally strong recommendation. If I stayed, I was on my own."

"And?"

"And so I swallowed my whistle and gave up. It hurt then to make what seemed like a cowardly choice, and it hurts every day now knowing that I did. I guess I'm just not hero material."

"I don't know if I'd say that. Remember, you just saved my life at the expense of blowing your cover."

"Reflex actions don't get processed by the brain."

"Sometimes living to fight again is just as heroic as getting destroyed for your cause, and often a hell of a lot smarter."

"I have no intention of fighting again. I'm afraid I'm just not cut out to be a crusader."

"Now there's something we have in common."

"The rest is essentially what I told you in the office. A doctor I worked for before his retirement was a big supporter of the president, and helped me get into the Secret Service. The irony is, here I am back working as a nurse—something I promised I would never do again. And sadly, that step back is a step up from the paper pushing I was doing in San Antonio."

"Well," he said, "I really appreciate your sharing all that with me. I'm getting a little chafed from the Washington version of the truth." He yawned again. "Okay, it's time. To steal a movie title from one of our former chief executives, I think it's Bedtime for Bonzo."

"Appropriate choice of films. So, what was it that kept you in the White House so late tonight? Was the president that sick?"