Michael Palmer - The First Patient

Piece of cake , she thought, grinning sardonically as she checked supplies and certified that the defibrillator was ready and waiting. If Treat Griswold wasn't the toughest and sharpest of the president's protectors, he was close. Short of coming on to him in a manner she was absolutely averse to, there was no way she was going to get near that inhaler, let alone switch it for a duplicate.

In his transformation from Treat Griswold to Donald Greenfield, he had either left his suit coat locked in Griswold's car in the Fredericksburg garage or placed it in the luggage compartment of Greenfield's Porsche. It seemed like somewhere in that transformation there might be a moment, but no approach was lighting up for her. She considered and discarded several other possibilities, each time coming back to the one scenario she had absolutely rejected, an all-out come-on, taken far enough to get Griswold's jacket off.

No way! she decided emphatically. As a Secret Service agent, she had vowed to sacrifice all for president and country. But allowing a beast like Treat Griswold to-

Her thoughts were interrupted abruptly by the germ of an idea. For several minutes, like an enophile with a new wine, she did nothing but explore the possibility from every aspect. Then she began to savor it. At that moment, the idea was still a remote possibility-nothing more. To make it work would require a number of pieces falling into place, followed by a hell of a lot of luck. But the best alternative she had been able to come up with to this point was unacceptable.

She approached the studious young physician in his office and asked to take the rest of the day off to deal with a nearly incapacitating migraine.

"Need anything for it?" he asked, barely glancing up from his New England Journal of Medicine .

"No, no. I have exactly what I need at home."

In truth, what she needed was right in her purse, her address book, and in her jacket pocket, her cell phone. Somewhere in that book was the initial step in converting a remote possibility into a plan-the phone number of Seth Owens of San Antonio. FBI agent Seth Owens.

Well , Doctor," Lily said, "I can't begin to tell you what a pleasure this has been, getting to drink tea and break bread with the most talked about man in D.C."

"The most talked about man in D.C.? Now that's a little hard to believe."

"Well, it's true-not even a contest. In Washington it is all about proximity and access to the president. Nothing more, nothing less. Proximity and access. In lesser cases, it becomes proximity and access to the ones with proximity and access. You, sir, are not only the new man on campus, but you are handsome, unassuming, and have total access to the big guy. Now, if that doesn't get you talked about, I don't know what does."

She shrugged matter-of-factly and held her hands out as if to say, That's the way it is .

No , Gabe thought. The way it is, is that you have a relationship with Jim Ferendelli that you're willing to lie to protect .

The two of them sat across from one another on fine leather sofas in Lily's richly paneled den, sipping tea from ample Oriental mugs and sampling a variety of tiny pastries and wafers.

"Remember, we still have tuna steak and salad waiting," Lily said. "Save some room."

"No problem. I'm ready for lunch and I'm very ready to feel a saddle beneath my butt. I'm grateful to you for this day, Lily. I haven't felt this at ease since the president showed up at my place with the suggestion that I come out here."

"Why, Doctor, what a very kind and very gracious thing for you to say."

"Okay, no more 'Doctor,' unless you want me to start calling you that. I'm sure you know it, but a Ph.D. in just about any field is much harder to get than an M.D. anyway. If anyone deserves to be called Doctor, it's you guys."

"More tea… Gabe?"

"I guess one more cup. I don't usually love tea, except iced, and then only outside on the hottest days, but this is really delicious."

"It converted me from coffee. I discovered it on a trip to western China, and now I have it shipped in regularly. From what I've been told, it's a variety of Camellia sinensis that doesn't grow anywhere else in that country, and maybe in the world. The closest I've encountered to it is Keemun black tea, but they really aren't that similar."

She picked up a small bell from the coffee table and shook it once. In seconds, the smiling, robust black woman who had been serving them materialized with another cup of the remarkable brew. It was a rich, translucent rusty brown, with an aroma and taste that reminded Gabe of… of what? Cinnamon? Honey? Some sort of nut? All three guesses were good ones, he acknowledged, but none of them was quite right.

He breathed in, then exhaled contentedly-almost a sigh. It had been his intention to move any conversation to the dual subjects of interest to him-Jim Ferendelli and nanotechnology. But now he realized that his sharp sense of urgency was gone.

He took another sip of tea, then forced himself to sit more upright and to push back against the euphoria and complacency that seemed to have overtaken him. Helping to bring him back on task was the realization that the unique turquoise necklace Lily was wearing today was precisely the one Ferendelli had drawn in the charcoal rendering of her. Why was she lying?

"Ready for some lunch?" she asked, reaching for the bell.

"In a moment."

"Are you okay? You look a little glassy-eyed."

"No, no. I'm fine. A little tired is all."

"Would you like to postpone our ride for another time?"

"Hardly. I've been looking forward to it. What was the horse's name? Intensive Care?"

"Close. He's named Serious Therapy. You'll love him."

Gabe was beginning to feel a bit more in control.

"So, here's what happened," he managed. "Ever since I arrived at the White House, I've been trying to piece together the life of Jim Ferendelli-to try and get some clue as to what might have happened to him. Did you know that not only has Ferendelli disappeared, but his daughter as well? She was going to school in New York."

"Oh, I didn't know. That's very frightening."

"You said you had met him?"

"Just once. We didn't have time to get to know one another."

"From what I can tell, he seems like quite a guy-sort of a Renaissance man, into art, photography, medicine, music."

"Fascinating."

"Yes. Well, I know that both the FBI and Secret Service investigators are very involved in the search for him, but I decided to walk through his place looking for anything that might have meant something to me as a doc, but that the investigators might have passed by. And believe it or not, I found something on his bookshelf-at least I might have."

"Go on."

"Jim Ferendelli had become fascinated with nanotechnology-especially the medical aspects of nanotechnology. He has a collection of books on the subject in his library, from Nanotechnology for Dummies to some fairly sophisticated scientific texts. I thought I remembered you mentioning the field when we spoke, so I figured I might kill three birds with one stone by seeing you, going riding, and picking your brain on the subject."

"Well, I assure you, Gabe, while I may have mentioned nanotechnology as one of the interests of the administration, I am far from an academic expert on the subject." Lily surprised Gabe at that moment by once again ringing the tiny bell, as if she was dropping the subject altogether. "Maddy," she said to her servant, "is lunch ready?"

"All set, Ms. Lily."

"Good. We'll be there in just a minute. I know you've got business in town. You can leave for the day as soon as you've taken care of the dishes."