When they arrived at the medical van in the motorcade, the Secret Service agents were poised to take off. Alison glanced up ahead at the lead limo. Gabe would be settled in next to the guy who had once been his drinking buddy in school and now was the most influential, potent person on Earth. She wondered whether the founding fathers, had they known about nuclear weapons and drug abuse, homelessness and health insurance, space exploration and runaway science, would still have chosen to cede such awesome responsibility to just a single individual.

From the president's point of view, the day had been an incredible success. Thanks to Gabe Singleton's quickness, clinical judgment, and quiet competence, his asthma attack had been aborted before it could evolve into a full-blown medical crisis. Once broken, the bronchospasm and mucus production abated, and within less than half an hour Stoddard had tucked his shirt in (leaving the collar and cuffs open), taken hold of his IV pole, and bravely wheeled it out to the podium. He stood there, bracing himself on the pole just a bit as boisterous applause filled the hall. Then he explained that his doctor had easily broken what he described as a mild asthma attack and would be removing the IV as soon as the last of the solution had run in. Stoddard then spoke ad lib for two minutes or so—more than enough to gain closure with the donors, exposure before the reporters and cameras, and, Alison guessed, smiling to herself, control of at least 90 percent of the nation's asthmatic vote.

The move to return to his supporters was blatantly theatrical—Ringling Brothers all the way. But given the potential danger of his asthma attack, there was nothing bogus about it. And judging from the prolonged, enthusiastic response of the audience, what could have been something of a body blow to his campaign—increased concern about his health—had instead become a war cry signaling that he was fearlessly ready to move forward with his Vision for America.

Down the road, it seemed as if Andrew Stoddard might point to this day as one in which the many facets of his run for reelection were triumphantly brought together.

Still it seemed possible—just possible—that within the ranks of his supporters, specifically in the person of his favorite, most trusted Secret Service guard, there was potential trouble.

CHAPTER 25