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He rounded on Spence, his eyes as hard as diamonds. “Don’t patronize me, Spence. If I’m fucked, then so are you. Remember that when you give me those smug platitudes of yours.”
“I wasn’t being patronizing or smug. I’m as concerned as you. But losing our heads will only make the situation worse.”
“I don’t think it could get any worse.”
“Of course it could.”
David slammed his fist into his opposite palm. “How could this happen?”
“I don’t know. Everything at Tabor House went according to plan. My men swallowed their pride and let Bondurant overcome them. But how could we have known that Clete had a helicopter standing by only a few miles from there?”
“Well, you should have known. That’s what I pay you for. And where the hell is George? He sneaked out and must have gone home. Call him there. Ask him if the doctors at the hospital will be able to undo what he’s done.”
“I’ve called his house several times. The line’s been busy, and he hasn’t responded to my page.”
“He’s Vanessa’s doctor of record. Maybe he’s been summoned to the hospital,” David said hopefully.
“That’s highly unlikely, David. After this, Clete won’t let him within a mile of her.”
“Christ! If this doesn’t work—”
“We’ll think of something else,” Spence said smoothly. “What we mustn’t lose sight of is that Vanessa has become a threat to the administration. She, you, and I are the only ones who know what happened in the nursery that night. George must suspect, but there’s no way he can be sure. One way or another, we must guarantee Vanessa’s silence. Then no one will know.”
“Except,” David said, thoughtfully regarding Spence, “me and you.”
* * *
Dawn was breaking when President Merritt arrived at the hospital to see his wife. Instead of his usual suit, he had chosen to wear casual clothes and a windbreaker, believing that the more disheveled he appeared, the more convincing his anxiety would be.
Secret Service had appeared in advance of his arrival. The hospital was in a state of barely controlled chaos. The media was out in full force, vying for the latest news in the ongoing saga of the First Lady’s health. The President entered the hospital through the kitchen and, using an elevator reserved for staff, was escorted up to her room.
When he went in, his father-in-law was standing at her bedside. “How is she, Clete?” he asked worriedly.
“Why don’t you ask her?”
Vanessa appeared to be sleeping, but when David lifted her hand, her eyes came open. He beamed a smile on her. “Hello, darling. Thank God you’re all right.”
“Hello, David. How good of you to come,” she said, her voice dripping sarcasm.
“Mr. President, this is Dr. Murphy.”
He absently acknowledged Clete’s introduction to the attending physician. “What’s the matter with my wife, Doctor?”
“In my opinion, Mr. President, she was receiving an inappropriately high dosage of lithium, especially since it was combined with Haldol and other sedatives.”
“I thought her blood levels were constantly being monitored.”
The doctor shrugged. “Dr. Leopold has faxed me her chart from Tabor House. The levels recorded are what they should be, but they’re inconsistent with what our lab here has found to be the case.”
“How could Dex Leopold’s staff make such an error?” No one ventured a guess. In fact there was an embarrassed silence coming from Dr. Murphy’s side of the patient’s
bed. “What’s her prognosis?” David asked briskly.
“She’s toxic. I’ve got IVs flushing out her system. That will take several days. Then I’ll readjust the dosages of her medication to an effective but safe level. She shouldn’t be reduced to a zombie, as she was when she arrived.”
“But she’ll be all right?”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
