"Yeah, I kind of enjoy hearing that one myself."

"It's good to be the king."

The president immediately picked up on the line from Mel Brooks's History of the World.

"You said it," he replied. "It is good to be the king."

The two friends shook hands and Gabe headed through the foyer toward the elevator. He was nearly there when his radio crackled on.

"Wrangler, Wrangler, do you read me. Over."

Wrangler was the radio name he had chosen with the help of the Secret Service. It wasn't used all the time—more often he was referred to as Doc—but Gabe liked it when it was. He threw the switch on the speaker attached to the sleeve of his jacket and spoke into it.

"This is Wrangler. Over."

"Wrangler, this is Agent Lowell—are you available to see a patient in your clinic? Over."

"I'm headed there now from Maverick's quarters. Over."

Maverick, the flamboyant, fearless Tom Cruise character in Top Gun, was the name given to the president in honor of his war record as a pilot. In accordance with White House Communications Office protocol, then, all of the First Family's call names began with the same letter as the president. Carol was Moondance, Andrew Jr. had chosen Muscles, and Rick had picked Mindmeld from Star Trek. Scotsman Magnus Lattimore was Piper after the instrument he allegedly played quite well, though seldom when he was sober.

"We'll be there in ten minutes. Do you copy? Over."

"Ten minutes. Roger that. What's the problem? Who's the patient? Over."

"The problem is a foreign body of some sort in the eye. The patient is Bear. He has specifically requested you. Do you know who Bear is? Over."

"I do. Tell him I'll be there to see him in ten minutes. Over."

"Over and out."

Curious.

Bear, named, Gabe figured, for his physique, or maybe his home state of Montana, was the vice president.

"He has specifically requested you."

Gabe stepped into the small elevator replaying yesterday's luncheon conversation with LeMar Stoddard and Stoddard's warning regarding Thomas Cooper III.

Now what? he wondered as the gears engaged. Now what?

CHAPTER 20

The clinic was being covered by a physician's assistant from the Army. Gabe dismissed her for an hour and then checked the fridge again for the tubes of blood. Nothing, except an Army lunch box and a Dr Pepper. It had to have been Alison. Motive . . . opportunity. He knew he was stretching the facts to fit his theories about the woman, but he was on edge—about her and in fact about almost everyone else he had met since arriving in D.C.