Michael Palmer - The First Patient

He toweled off and put on Shaun's clothes, which weren't at all the mismatch his mother had predicted. Probably unkempt, filthy, and sodden Gabe was unimposing enough to appear smaller than he was.

"Now that's better," Louis's mother said, surveying Gabe.

She handed him a mug of coffee, determined that he drank it black, and introduced herself as Sharon Turner.

"Mrs. Turner," Gabe said, "I'm very grateful to Louis and I can't tell you how much I appreciate your trust and all you've done. It must have been quite a shock seeing me like I was. Now, what do you want to know?"

"I want to know the name of the man you recently replaced at the White House," she said, with some mirth in her expression at his surprise.

"Ferendelli. Dr. James Ferendelli."

"My sister's husband, Herman, works in the laundry at the White House. I called and asked him about you. He said he never met you, but that you just came on board. He couldn't remember the name of the doctor you replaced, but you answered me quickly enough to seem genuine."

Immediately Gabe's mind began to race.

"Is he home now?" he asked.

"Herman? Actually, he's just getting ready to head into work."

Gabe could barely conceal his excitement.

"Do you think I could speak with him?"

Sharon Turner picked up the phone, dialed, then handed it across to him.

"Herman," Gabe said after introducing himself, "can you get a piece of paper and a pencil or pen?… Great. I need you to get a short note to the president. Do you think you can do that?"

"We have people that bring the linens up to the residence. I help sometimes."

"I'd rather have you deliver the note personally if it's possible. Okay, you ready? The note should read: 'The man who rides Condor needs you to call him.' Then I want you to write down Sharon's number at the bottom of the note. If for any reason your supervisor won't let you go up to the residence, see if you can get one of the Secret Service people to deliver the note. But it would be much better if you do it. Any questions?"

Herman said there weren't, and Gabe set the receiver back on the wall. Then he settled back with his coffee, trying to conjure up a way to separate the president from all those who might be a threat to him, including his Secret Service protectors. By the time the phone rang, in just over forty-five minutes, an idea had germinated and begun to grow. It was an idea that would take some quick planning and some incredible luck, but given what was at stake, it was an idea that had to be made to work.

Sharon answered the phone, listened for a few moments, and then, rather shakily, handed it across to Gabe.

"It's for you," she said. "Man on the other end says he's-"

"That's who he is," Gabe said, managing a grin at her reluctance to give the caller a name or a title.

"What's the address here?" Gabe asked.

Sharon grabbed a piece of paper and wrote it down.

"That you, Gabe?" the president asked.

"In the flesh."

"I've been trying to reach you all night. Where in the hell have you been?"

"Long story. I'll tell you when I see you."

"Roger that. Good move with that Condor note. I never forget a horse."

"Mr. President, I need you to send someone out to get me."

"I'll send a car right out."

"Terrific."

Gabe read the address.

"Twenty minutes," Stoddard said.

"And send along a couple of photos-one signed to the Turners and one a thank-you to Louis Turner. Sometime soon I want you to have Mrs. Turner here and her family over for dinner."

"Done. Any friends of yours are friends of the Stoddards."

"Great. Hey, what were you trying to reach me about?"

"Something bad," Stoddard said. "Very bad. A few hours ago we got notified that your patient Lily Sexton was found dead in her hospital bed."

The two friends sat across from one another enveloped in a somber silence. Twenty-five years ago, they might have been in their room in Bancroft Hall at the Naval Academy, chatting about women or an upcoming exam. Now they were alone together in the presidential study in the White House residence, mulling over the significance of frightening and deflating news-the deaths of former White House Physician Jim Ferendelli and the Secretary-designate of Science and Technology, Lily Sexton.

"The police and Secret Service investigators don't report finding anything unusual or suspicious below the Benning Street Bridge," Stoddard said finally.

"I'm not surprised. These people, whoever they are, are organized and professional."

"You're certain Jim's dead?"

"I'm as sure as I can be without a body to examine. I don't know much, but after all these years as a doc, I know dead. It was really quite horrible. We were running, and suddenly he grabbed the sides of his head, uttered a cry straight out of Edgar Allan Poe, and went down. When I knelt to check him, he wasn't reacting at all. He was not breathing effectively, and he didn't have any pulse that I could discern. It only took, like, ten or fifteen seconds. I think they stopped his heart either directly or through the connections in his brain. The two men were coming at us fast. That's when I took off. Running away from Jim like I did was a reflex reaction, but I'm certain that if I didn't, one way or another, either from some chemical they put into me or from a bullet, I'd be dead now. I'm sorry, Drew. I really am."

"I'm sorry, too. Jim was a very good man. Sounds like he went through hell these past weeks. And he said Jennifer was someplace safe?"

"He wouldn't tell me where, but yes. That's what he said."

"I hope we find his body. Except for Jenny he didn't have much family, but especially for her sake, I want to find it."

"An autopsy might help us answer some questions about you, too."

Autopsy . The word hit Stoddard like a slap.

"This is terrible, Gabe," he said, "just terrible. Listen, I want you to go over things one more time, just to be certain I have it all straight."

Patiently, Gabe again reviewed the events leading up to the meeting in Anacostia with Ferendelli, starting with the note that had been left for him at the Watergate. For the moment, he only alluded to his ill-fated ride with Lily Sexton and the remarkable search of her house that followed. The details he would fill in when it was clear the president had come to terms with the certainty of Ferendelli's stunning and horrific death.

As Gabe proceeded, Stoddard stopped him frequently, asking for clarification of the half hour or so that Gabe spent with Ferendelli and the man's unrequited love for Lily. After Stoddard was satisfied he knew all there was to know, he listened attentively to the account of the arrival of the two killers, the chase to the river, Ferendelli's collapse, the explosion of hallucinogenic drugs in Gabe's brain, and finally the moment Louis Turner found him unconscious in the vacant lot.

When Gabe felt comfortable that the president had processed the death of his friend and physician as well as he was going to, he took Stoddard step-by-step through the discovery of the underground passageway and the nanotechnology laboratory. It took most of an hour and a number of diagrams of drug-carrying fullerenes and brain sketches to bring Stoddard up to speed on how his irrational episodes, Gabe's powerful hallucinations, and Ferendelli's death were related.

At last, the president sank back in his high-backed leather easy chair and stared out the window, breathing deeply and slowly through his nose-a calming exercise Gabe remembered from their days at the Academy.

"Sorry about the car," Gabe said. "On the way back here we drove by where I had left it, but it was gone."

"I think my father has insurance," Stoddard quipped. "Gabe, who could it be? Who's doing this to me? And why?"