There was no one who passed the blind man, making his way through the throngs at Reagan National Airport, who did not take notice of him. He was tall and broad shouldered, with a long ebony ponytail protruding from beneath a white cowboy hat that featured an ornate band of turquoise medallions linked by hand-tooled silver. He strode ahead with surprising confidence, his thin white cane tapping away at the tiled floor like an insect's antenna. His face, high cheekboned and powerful, was the reddish brown of the clay that for centuries had been the bedrock of his people, the Arapaho.

As the man emerged from the security zone, Gabe quietly fell in stride beside him.

"Dr. Singleton, I presume," Dr. Kyle Blackthorn said after just a step or two, though there had been no physical contact between them.

"How'd you guess?"

"It was no guess, my friend, I assure you of that. And I really don't think you want to know which of my senses were at work."

"No. No, I suppose I don't. Luggage?"

"Right here. One night's worth of clothes and my testing materials. I'm due back to teach at Wind River the day after tomorrow."

"You still go out to the reservation every week?"

"Just one of the tribulations of being a role model."

"Those kids are lucky to have you."

"I am the lucky one, just as are you for the work that you do when you don't have to."

"Well said. Thank you for dropping everything and coming so quickly. I know how busy you are."

Gabe smiled as one traveler after another turned to watch them pass. He had wondered how easy it was going to be to sneak the six-foot, three-inch Indian into the president's residence at the White House. Now Gabe found himself searching for another place the two men could meet for a three- or four-hour evaluation. As difficult as Blackthorn was to hide, the President of the United States was even more so. Their session was simply going to have to be in the White House residence.

"You ready to go to work?" Gabe asked.

"The president?" Blackthorn asked in a near whisper.

Gabe nodded.

"Good guess," he said.

"Not too difficult. You were front-page news in the local rag when you left. Everyone was talking about it. Before this, they were proud of the things you have done with the children. Now, they are absolutely in awe."

With no prompting from Gabe, Blackthorn turned toward the stairway leading down to the parking area. Perhaps it was some telltale sound from the roadway below, perhaps an increase in the foot traffic heading in that direction or maybe just a slight gust of breeze. Whatever senses he was reacting to, the psychologist responded with certainty, his cane confirming more than directing.