But the President wouldn't actually stop them from making an attempt to defend themselves . . . would he? He hadn't said as much. He had simply stated that he thought it unlikely . . . what were his words? Rogers returned to the TV monitor and ran the tape back. ". . . The time has come for us all to pray fervently for salvation, in whatever form it might come, whether we can expect it or not ..."

What did that mean?

And who would give Rogers his orders, the proper orders, now?

"He's feeling weak today. The trip to Washington didn't help him any," Ithaca said, leading Arthur to the bedroom. Harry lay back on thick white pillows, eyes closed. He looked worse than when they had parted a week ago. His facial flesh was sallow and blotchy. His breathing was regular, but when he opened his eyes, they seemed washed out, unenthusiastic. He smiled at Arthur and grasped his hand firmly.

"I'm going to resign," Harry said.

Arthur started to protest, but Harry waved it off. "Not because of that speech. I'm not going to be much use. I'm still fighting, but . . . It's getting worse very fast. I'm on a short rope. I can't leave town anymore, and I'm going to be in a hospital all the time by next week. You don't need that kind of grief now."

"I need you, Harry," Arthur said.

"Yeah. God knows I'm sorry. I'd much rather be up and about. You have a tough fight now, Arthur. What are you going to do?"

Arthur shook his head slowly. "McClennan and Rotterjack have resigned. The President hasn't given any orders to the task force."

"He wouldn't dare disband the group now."

"No, he'll keep us together, but I doubt he'll let us do anything. I talked to Hicks a few hours ago, and from what he says, Crockerman's even gone a step beyond Ormandy. Apocalypse. Get your papers in order. Here comes the auditor."

"He can't be all that ..." Harry shook his head. "Can he?"

"I haven't talked to him since we went into the Oval Office together. Now comes the media sideshow. We are going to be roasted alive over a slow fire. Since I have no specific orders, I'm going to check into the Furnace, and then go back to Oregon for a few days. Hide out."

"What about the people in detention? Why are we holding them? They're healthy."

"They're certainly no security risk," Arthur agreed.

"We have the authority to let them go, don't we?"

"We're still ranked just below the President. I'll call Fulton." He still held Harry's hand. He hadn't let it go since sitting on the bed. "You've got to win this one, Harry."

"Feeling mortal yourself, huh?" Harry's face was serious. "You know, even Ithaca . . . She cries openly sometimes now. We cried together last night after she drove me back from the tests."