"I don't know what to say," Gabe replied, unwilling to lend even the slightest credence to Stoddard's belief that there was something medically wrong with his son beyond what the public was being told. "There's nothing I can or would tell you other than what you already know."

To Gabe's utter surprise, the billionaire forged ahead.

"Gabe, is there something the matter with Drew?" he asked. "I mean seriously the matter."

Gabe hesitated, then pushed back from the table.

"LeMar, don't force me to leave," he said. "And please, don't play the card of all that you did for me way back when. I've already told you, many times, how grateful I am for that."

"Easy, easy," Stoddard said, hands raised. "I'm a very worried parent. That's all. My son starts getting migraine headaches he never had before; then all of a sudden his personal physician vanishes, along with the man's daughter. Do you blame me for being concerned?"

"No, sir—LeMar. I don't blame you a bit." He chose his next words carefully. "If Drew ever tells me there's something about his health he wants me to share with you, I'll contact you in a heartbeat. But until that happens, you'll just have to get used to some frustration."

Stoddard sighed and motioned to the waiter that he had no further interest in his salmon. Anxious for the inquisition to end, Gabe did the same. For the next ten minutes, through coffee and a chocolate soufflé that Gabe suspected was close to perfect, the conversation lightened considerably—an amusing tale out of school about the president's childhood, some questions about Gabe's medical practice and Lariat, and an anecdote about Magnus Lattimore containing a veiled suggestion of the man's sexual preference for men, a possibility that Gabe had wondered about in passing but didn't particularly care about one way or the other.

"So," Stoddard said, with no more transition than that, "have you had much contact with Thomas Cooper the Third?"

"Very little, actually."

"He insists on using 'the Third' whenever possible—doesn't want to be just another Tom Cooper. You don't have a physician/patient relationship with him, do you?"

"Not unless he comes to see me for medical help, and so far that hasn't happened. He has his own doctor—a Navy man."

Gabe felt uncomfortable speaking about anyone else to Stoddard, but it was quite clear that the president's father, like most of those people he had met since arriving in D.C., traded in gossip, speculation, and information the way folks in Tyler traded in horses. It wasn't necessarily anything sinister or immoral; it was just the nature of the Washington beast. Gossip, speculation, and information—the coin of the realm.