The bedside phone rang and she picked it up. “Good morning,” a mechanical voice said, “this is your wake-up call…”

Wes set the phone back in the cradle and swung out of bed. Evyn’s face surfaced in her mind, and she wondered if Evyn was still sleeping or if she was on her way to the House. She wondered how she’d slept and if she’d thought about their evening. She didn’t stop to ask herself why she’d awakened thinking about a woman for the first time in her life. Instead, she resolutely put thoughts of Evyn aside and hit the shower.

Thirty minutes later, dressed in her regulation khakis, Wes grabbed a cup of Starbucks takeout coffee in the hotel lobby and took a cab to the White House. She walked around the Ellipse, familiarizing herself with the terrain. She’d never been inside the White House before but assumed the fastest way to wherever she needed to go would be via the West Wing, where the bulk of the offices were located. At 0730, she approached the northwest gate and gave her name to the officer on duty. “I have an appointment at zero eight hundred hours with Ms. Washburn.”

“One moment, please.” The White House Uniformed Division officer turned away and scanned a screen. A minute later he said, “You’re cleared to enter. You’ll want the elevator on your right. A staffer will meet you and take you up.”

“Thank you.”

Inside, Wes noted the sign for the emergency medical clinic in the Old Executive Office Building and walked past the hall to her new base until she found the elevators. She repeated her name and destination to the staffer in the elevator, and when she exited, another staffer escorted her to a waiting area. She sat and waited.

At 0805, a young intern approached. He looked to be about twenty-two, buttoned down, slightly frazzled, with a friendly smile. “Captain Masters?”

Wes stood. “That’s right.”

“Ms. Washburn sends her apologies for keeping you waiting. She’s ready to see you now.”

“Thank you.” She followed him through an archway, down a hall, and into another small waiting area. He tapped on the heavy, carved walnut door and responded to something that only he could hear. He pushed open the door, and Wes entered Lucinda Washburn’s office. The south lawn was visible opposite her through French doors framed by floor-to-ceiling white brocade drapes. The Oriental carpet under her feet looked expensive and old. A closed door on her left probably led into the Oval Office. Wes stood at parade rest in front of Ms. Washburn’s desk while the chief of staff signed off on a call.

Lucinda replaced the handset, stood, and held out her hand. “Good to see you again, Captain. Hang your coat up over there, and have a seat.”

Wes shrugged out of her topcoat and added it to several other winter coats on a wrought-iron coat tree just inside the door. She took one of the two leather chairs facing the desk and waited.

“Do you have any objections to taking a polygraph?”

“No, ma’am,” Wes said, seeing that they were about to get directly down to business.

“Good. That’s really the last of the formal security items.” She shrugged. “Protocol only. Your record has already been reviewed.”

Wes said nothing. She wouldn’t be sitting there if her service record and probably everything that came in her life before that hadn’t already been scrutinized in intimate detail. Pro forma.

“Have any questions?”

“No, ma’am.”

Lucinda smiled. “I am not in the military, so you can dispense with the formalities. And feel free to speak. None of this is on the record.”

“May I ask how I came to be considered for the position?”

“Of course.” Lucinda gestured to a coffee urn and a row of plain white mugs sitting on a linen-draped sideboard. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

While Lucinda poured, she talked. “Obviously, Dr. O’Shaughnessy’s death was unexpected. The position is a critical one, and with POTUS about to embark on a series of national and international movements, we need the White House Medical Unit to be at full staff.”

“I understand.” Wes waited for the rest of the story. The White House medical staff usually came from the military, and there were plenty of military physicians available. But she’d been short-listed. Not just short-listed but fast-tracked.

Lucinda handed her a cup of coffee and angled the adjacent chair to face Wes. When she sat, their knees were a few inches apart. “As you can imagine,” Lucinda said calmly, “an election year is a volatile time for the nation and disruptive to both parties. Emotions run high.”

“If there’s something I need to know about the president’s health, I assume it will be in his records, but if not, then I need to know…off the record.”

Lucinda’s eyes glinted as if she was pleased with Wes’s statement. “This isn’t television. There’s nothing we’re hiding about the president’s health. He has some food allergies which you will note in his chart, an old ligamentous injury to his right knee, and some annoying, but I’m told not dangerous, floaters in his right eye. Other than that, he is remarkably fit and healthy.”

“Excellent. I will be reviewing his records today.”

“We have excellent security,” Lucinda went on, “and the president and I have total faith in his detail. In an election year, we always see an escalation in death threats.”

Wes nodded. “I’ll need to know the nature of the threats, the analysis of the threat level, and what the Secret Service containment policies are.”

“You see,” Lucinda said, smiling more broadly now, “you’ve just proved my point. We need someone in charge who knows how to approach these kinds of issues in a scientific fashion.”

“Any physician should be able—”

“But not with the facility of someone whose job it has been to set up treatment, triage, and interventional protocols under battlefield conditions. That is a fairly unique skill.”

“Do you expect an attack on POTUS?”

Lucinda sipped her coffee and finally said softly, “It isn’t a question of if the president will be attacked, but when. That is the presumption we all work under, Captain Masters. As long as we believe that, we will be prepared for anything.”

“I understand.” Wes decided to push her luck. “And the current staff? Isn’t it customary to advance members from within?”

Lucinda shrugged. “There is nothing customary in the White House, Captain. The guard changes every four to eight years, and many of the personnel change at the same time. The rules, if there are any, are almost totally dependent upon who occupies these rooms.” Lucinda regarded her for a long moment, and Wes sat under her dissecting gaze calmly. “The White House Military Office is your counterpart, and they felt no internal candidate was qualified for the unique demands of this position at this point in time.”

“I can assure you, Ms. Washburn,” Wes said, “I am prepared.”

“I’m very, very glad to hear that.” Lucinda set her cup aside, and her expression took on the kind of intense focus Wes recognized from the field when an engagement was imminent.

Lucinda Washburn was about to tell her the real reason she’d been hired. Everything else was reasonable, but that about-to-do-battle glint in Lucinda’s eyes said there was more.

“Need-to-know, Captain,” Lucinda said softly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We have a security breach, as yet unidentified, but we suspect the individual has intimate access to the president. You’ll be with those closest to him every day.”

“I’m not a security agent, I’m a doctor.”

Lucinda smiled. “And as such, a trained observer.”

Wes asked, “Who are the likely suspects?”

Lucinda drew a long breath and listed the limited pool of individuals with close, continuous access to the president. Evyn Daniels was one of them. Wes thought back to the hours they’d spent together the night before. If she’d had this information then, maybe she wouldn’t have suggested dinner, even though she couldn’t imagine Evyn betraying her country. But then, she didn’t really know her at all. All she had to go on were nebulous feelings, and feelings had no place in her job.

“I’ll be read in on any security updates?” Wes asked.

“Yes—need-to-know.” Lucinda stood, indicating the interview was over. “Questions?”

“No, ma’am. I do have a request.”

“Go ahead,” Lucinda said, a note of curiosity in her tone.

“I’d like to see the autopsy file on Dr. O’Shaughnessy.”

Lucinda’s jaw tightened. “You’ll have that today, Captain. As soon as the last of the paperwork is completed.”

“Thank you.”

Lucinda Washburn leaned across her desk and pushed a button on her phone. A voice came over the speaker. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Would you please let the agents know Captain Masters is ready?”

“Certainly.”

Lucinda turned. “We’ll get the polygraph out of the way, and that should be the end of the formalities.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Wes rose. “As I said, I’ll be reviewing the president’s chart today. I would like to examine him at his earliest convenience.”

“Really?” Lucinda studied her. “Why? Everything is in his records.”

“That may be, but if I’m going to be his doctor, I need to perform a baseline physical examination and make my own assessment.”

“You don’t trust your predecessor?”

“I don’t know him,” Wes said. “But in any case, I wouldn’t presume to take care of someone I had never examined. It’s not good medicine.” She hesitated, seeing the consternation in Lucinda Washburn’s eyes. She imagined the president was incredibly busy, and finding time to meet with her would probably be incredibly inconvenient. “In my experience, high-profile patients often get poor care. Physicians and everyone else involved are reluctant to inconvenience them. Things get overlooked. That’s not fair to any patient, but it certainly is not appropriate for the president of the United States. In light of everything you’ve told me, it’s imperative I judge his status for myself.”