"Bill has seen Ormandy several times the past week. I've asked Nancy, the President's executive secretary, what they discussed. At first she was reluctant to tell me, but . . . She was concerned. She was only in the room for the second meeting, for a few minutes. She said they were talking about the end of the world." Mrs. Crockerman's face might have been plastered on, her anger stiffened it so. 'They were discussing God's plan for this nation. Nancy said Mr. Ormandy appeared exuberant."

Hicks stared at the table. What was there to say? Crockerman was President. He could see whom he pleased.

"I do not like that, Mr. Hicks. Do you?"

"Not at all, Mrs. Crockerman."

"What do you suggest?"

"As you say, he doesn't listen to me anymore."

"He doesn't listen to Carl or David or Irwin . . . or me. He's obsessed. He has been reading the Bible. The crazy parts of the Bible, Mr. Hicks. The book of Revelation. My husband was not like this a few weeks ago. He's changed."

"I'm very sorry."

"He's called Cabinet meetings. They're discussing economic impact. Talking about making an announcement after the election. There's nothing you could tell him ... ?" she asked. "He seemed to place great trust in you at first. Maybe even now. How did he come to trust you? He talked about you often."

"It was a difficult time for him," Hicks said. "He saw me after he met with the Guest. He'd read my book. I never agreed with his assessment ..."

"Punishment. In our bedroom, that's the key word now. He almost smiles when he talks about Ormandy's use of the word. Punishment. How very trite that sounds. My husband was never trite, and never a sucker for religious fanatics, politically or otherwise."

"This has changed all of us," Hicks said softly.

"I do not want my husband undone. This Guest found his weakness, when nobody in three decades of politics— and I've been with him all that time—has ever gotten to him. The Guest opened him wide, and Ormandy crept into the wound. Ormandy could destroy the President."

"I understand." He could do worse than that, Hicks thought.

"Will you please do something? Try talking with my husband again? I'll get you an appointment. He'll do that much for me, I'm sure." Mrs. Crockerman stared longingly at the French windows, as if they might be an escape. "It's even strained our marriage. I'll be with him on election eve, smiling and waving. But I'm thinking about staying here now. I can only take so much, Mr. Hicks. I cannot watch my husband undo himself."

The air in the chief of staff's office was thick with gloom.