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"Turn on the TV, will you, Oscar? I'd like to catch a few minutes of the twenty-four-hour cable news." Then he turned to Fawcett. "Dan, first thing in the morning, schedule a meeting with General Metcalf, I want him to brief me on his troop movements."
"I'll take care of it," Fawcett assured him- "Good night," In the elevator going down to the first floor Fawcett looked at his watch.
"Two hours should do it."
"He'll sleep like the dead and wake up sicker than a dog," said Lucas.
"By the way, how did you manage it? I didn't see you slip anything into his tea, and yet you poured all three cups from the same pot."
"An old magician's trick," Lucas said, laughing, "The teapot had two interior compartments."
The elevator doors opened and they met Emmett, who was standin off to one side. "Any problems?" he asked.
Fawcett shook his head. "As smooth as glass. The President went down like a baby."
Lucas looked at him, his eyes cautious. "Now comes the hard part-fooling the Russians."
"He's sleeping unusually soundly tonight," said Lugovoy.
The monitoring psychologist who drew the early-morning shift nodded. "A good sign. Less chance for Comrade Belkaya to penetrate the President's dreams."
Lugovoy studied the display screen that recorded the President's body functions. "Temperature up one degree. Congestion forming in the nasal passages. Appears as though our subject is coming down with either a summer cold or the flu."
Fascinating, we know he's been attacked by a virus before he feels it."
"I don't think it's serious," Lugovoy said. "But you better keep a tight watch in case it develops into something that could jeopardize the project-" Abruptly the green data filling the dozen screens encompassing the console faded into distorted lines and vanished into blackness.
The monitoring psychologist tensed. "What in hell-" Then, as quickly as the display data were wiped clean, they returned in bright, clear readings. Lugovoy quickly checked the circuit warning lights.
They all read normal.
"What do you suppose that was?"
Lugovoy looked thoughtful. "Possibly a temporary failure in the implant transmitter."
"No indication of a malfunction."
"An electrical interference, perhaps?"
"Of course. An atmospheric disturbance of some kind. That would explain it. The symptoms match. What else could it be?"
Lugovoy passed a weary hand across his face and stared at the monitors. "Nothing," he said somberly. "Nothing of any concern."
General Metcalf sat in his military residence and swirled the brandy around in his glass as he closed the cover of the report in his lap. He looked up sadly and stared at Emmett, who was sitting across the room.
"A tragic crime," he said slowly. "The President had every chance for achieving greatness. No finer man ever sat in the White House."
"The facts are all there," said Emmett, gesturing at the report.
"Thanks to the Russians, he's mentally unfit to continue in office."
"I must agree, but it's no easy thing. He and I have been friends for nearly forty years."
"Will you call off the troops and allow Congress to meet at Lisner Auditorium tomorrow?" Emmett pressed.
Metcalf sipped the brandy and gave a weary nod to his head.
"I'll issue orders for their withdrawal first thing in the morning.
