Michael Palmer - The First Patient

"Any psychologists? Psychiatrists?"

Stoddard shook his head.

"I… I don't think so. Gabe, if word gets out about these things, I'm finished."

"Drew, as things stand, I feel as if I only have two choices: to call in that military aide who's out there so that you and I can turn over the government to Vice President Cooper, or to quit and jump on the next flight back to Wyoming."

Lattimore leaned forward and seemed as if he were about to enter the discussion, but Stoddard, whose back was turned directly toward him, stopped him with a raised hand and then sat up in bed, still facing toward Gabe and away from the chief of staff. In that instant, every vestige of Drew Stoddard had vanished and was completely replaced by the President of the United States.

"Gabe," he said, "Jim Ferendelli had to deal with the same crisis of conscience as you are right now. I ached for him then just as I ache for you now. Ultimately, he rejected both possibilities you suggest. He didn't quit and he didn't insist I turn over the government of this country to Tom Cooper. He put me on medication for what he felt was causing my problem, and he promised not to rest until he knew what was the matter with me and what we should do about it. Please believe that."

"I do."

"Gabe, working with a Republican Congress, my jobs programs have taken more than six hundred thousand workers off unemployment. Communities have joined with me and private business to add two hundred thousand computers to our schools. Drug use in the inner cities has begun a serious decline. A decline, Gabe. The polls say that if I win, I'll likely have a friendly Congress next term. Give me that and there's no limit to what we can accomplish for the people of this country. I'm begging you, Gabe. Stay close to me. Find out what's the matter with me. Treat me with any medication you want. Bring any specialists in to evaluate me. But please, for God's sake please don't pull the plug on me. Not now. Not when we're so close."

In the silence that followed, Gabe felt much of his anger at being deceived and much of his zeal to take immediate action deflate. He didn't have the statistics that Lattimore and the president had cited, but he did know that there was a spirit of hope and optimism in the country that hadn't existed for a generation or more. And best of all, there were no American soldiers losing their lives on foreign soil. Drew Stoddard, scholar, intellectual, war hero, humanist, populist, was the real deal.

"I need some time," Gabe heard himself say. "I need some time to sort things out. That was a very frightening scene in here."

"I'm sure it was, Gabe. Take all the time you need."

"And I need Jim Ferendelli's records about his findings and his conclusions so far."

"Wherever they are," Lattimore said, "we can't find them, except for some very thin records at Bethesda Naval. The FBI and the investigative arm of the Secret Service have gone over every inch of the medical office, Jim's house in Georgetown, and his home in North Carolina. Dozens of agents are still on the job. Maybe a couple of hundred."

"Well, I want access to his place."

"No problem."

"And if I decide to go along with what you're asking, I need at least one other doctor to be my assistant in this case and to be close to you when I can't be."

"Do we have to tell him everything?" Carol asked.

"I need to decide that. First, though, I have to feel more certain that this is a secret I want to keep."

"Just tell me what you need," Stoddard said. "Tell me what you want me to do."

"Stay close to home. Here or Camp David. I want to know precisely where you are every minute until I've made my decision."

"What about Texas?" Lattimore asked the president.

"Cancel it," Stoddard ordered brusquely.

"Finally, I want your word, Drew, and yours, too, Carol and Magnus, that if I opt to bail on this whole deal and involve Vice President Cooper, you won't try anymore to convince me otherwise."

"You have our word," the president said.

The other two hesitated, then reluctantly nodded in assent.

"In that case," Gabe said, "get ready for bed and then crawl back under the covers. I'm going to be here tonight for as long as it takes to convince myself you're stable."

"Fine. The Lincoln Bedroom is right down the hall if you want to rest there," Carol said. "I can get you a robe and pajamas. Griz will arrange for some food if you're hungry."

"That's all right. A few quiet hours and I'll go home. For now, after I check you over again, Mr. President, I want to do some reading. You have a library up here, yes?"

"Not a huge one, but yes, yes, we do. And Griz can get you into the main library in the East Wing."

"Good."

"Exactly what do you want to read about, Doctor?"

Gabe reached over to again check Stoddard's pulses. Then he tested the man's eye movements and the response of his pupils to light.

"The Twenty-fifth Amendment," Gabe said.

Midnight came and went. By 2:00 A.M., when Gabe decided it was safe to leave, the president had been sleeping soundly for an hour and a half. At Lattimore's request, Gabe watched from a distance as the military aide carrying The Football was dismissed. Then Gabe gathered his things, including two books on presidential illness, succession, and the Twenty-fifth Amendment.

He was about to notify Treat Griswold he was leaving when Carol Stoddard knocked softly on the open door. She had removed her makeup and changed into pajamas and a robe but still looked no less elegant than she had in her evening dress. Her doe's eyes were slightly reddened, leading Gabe to suspect she had been crying.

"Ready to leave?" she asked, taking a step into the room.

"I think it's safe. No matter what, I'm just a mile or so away."

"He'll be all right, I think-at least for now. Do you know what you're going to do about all this?"

"I need a little time-maybe just until later this morning."

"Gabe, the job is taking a heavy toll on him-on us. Heavier than either of us imagined, I think. Drew's been working seven-day weeks, often as many as sixteen, even twenty hours a day. We hardly ever go to sleep at the same time and… and our personal life has dwindled until… well… until there just isn't much of it left."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Gabe, I'm begging you, if you think for the sake of his health Drew should drop out of the campaign and let Tom Cooper take over, please tell him. He thinks he can be all things to all people. But someone has to help him see that nobody can-not even him."

Tears began to well in Carol's eyes. Gabe hesitated, then crossed to her and held her quietly until her composure returned.

"Whatever I decide will be what's best for my patient," he said finally.

"I understand. Maybe you can convince him to just cut down-take a nonworking vacation, spend more time with me and the boys, spend some time each day doing nothing, accept the fact that everyone has limits."

"I'll try, Carol. Really I will."

"Thank you. Thank you so much for what you're doing. I'll send Treat Griswold over to walk you out."

Before Gabe could respond, the First Lady was gone. He flashed on the envy he had felt when he arrived in D.C. and first saw her and Drew together-the perfect, beautiful First Couple, leading the country together into a cultural, political, and social renaissance. Now he reflected on one of many wise observations by his original AA sponsor-this one dealing with the dangers inherent in going through life comparing your insides to everyone else's outsides.

He took the elevator down to the first floor, where he identified the tubes of blood he had drawn by using his Tyler phone number in reverse and set them in the small refrigerator in the clinic.