from the environment we were in.”
“When was this?”
“The exposure—and I think that’s what it was—took place five days ago. Two days ago Ben Lambert died of what we thought was a heart attack. That’s pretty well occupied our thoughts and actions since. Did Mr. Madison say anything to you tonight about coming back with respiratory symptoms?”
“He asked me to see him in my office tomorrow, but he led me to believe it would only be a routine, get-acquainted visit.”
Rachel held her napkin to her mouth to smother a violent cough. When she stopped, she said to Josh, “I think you’d better check him over pretty carefully.” She coughed again. “And maybe someone should have a look at me as well.”
Chapter 3
3
Jerry Lang spoke softly, but the state-of-the-art two-way radio picked up his voice loud and clear. “Cowboy is leaving his house now. ETA to Preston Medical Clinic is 0930.”
“Roger that.”
“Do we always have to go through that Dick Tracy wrist radio stuff?” David Madison asked from the backseat of the town car. The question was the same one he always asked, and his grin took any possible sting out of the words.
Lang turned from his position in the front seat. “Sir, you’re at liberty to cancel your Secret Service protection at any time, but if I were you, I’d speak with Mrs. Madison before doing anything that rash.”
“I know, I know,” Madison said. He coughed and cleared his throat. “But you’d think, after a couple of years out of office, I wouldn’t be worth much to any terrorist who’s out to kidnap me.”
Lang didn’t answer. He kept his eyes moving, quartering the area as the car rolled through the streets of Dallas. This assignment to guard the former President might not be as glamorous as his former post at the White House, but he was determined to carry it out to the best of his ability.
His wife—actually, his ex-wife—had told him repeatedly he had to stop making the Secret Service his life, but it was hard to do, especially after that incident at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Shortly after that, he got this assignment to follow Madison into retirement. Say what you will, despite his boss’s calling it a lateral transfer, in Lang’s mind it had been a demotion. Now he was determined to prove to everyone he was still at the top of his game.
The car pulled to a stop in the circular drive of the four-story white stone building that housed the cadre of doctors—both generalists and specialists—that made up the Preston Medical Clinic. An agent hurried from the area of the front door and assisted Madison from the car.
“I think I’ll be safe in here, fellows,” Madison said as he strode through the sliding glass doors.
Lang fell in beside him. “Agent Gilmore there has already done the sweep of the clinic building. I spent the morning checking out Dr. Pearson. I’ll hang out in the waiting room while you’re in there with him. Give me a heads-up when you’re ready to leave, and I’ll have the car pulled around.”
***
Dr. Josh Pearson shrugged into a crisply starched white coat. He wasn’t sure why he’d changed before seeing this patient. After all, David Madison put on his pants one leg at a time. Maybe the difference was that the pants were part of a suit worn by a man who was the immediate past president of the United States.
Josh tapped on the exam room door before opening it. “Good morning, Mr. President.”
Madison was perched on the edge of the examining table, a faint smile on his face. He’d shed his suit coat, which hung on the back of the exam room door, a tie peeking out of one pocket. The collar of his dress shirt was open.
“I’ve reviewed your chart, so let’s get right to your present status. Last night you said some things were bothering you. I’d like to hear more about them.” Josh pulled out a rolling stool and sat. “While you’re telling me, would you please slip out of your shirt?”
Madison unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it. “Let’s drop that ‘Mr. President’ stuff at the door if we can. In here, I’m David . . . or, if you prefer, Mr. Madison. Treat me like any other patient. Okay?”
Josh knew that, despite Madison’s attempts to put him at ease, he’d always be aware of this man’s status, of what he’d been, and what he’d done. But he appreciated the gesture. “I’m flattered, Mr. . . . Madison. Now, how can I help you?”
Madison coughed. “This has to stay between us.”
“Everything you tell me is in confidence. Your records are doubly encrypted, and I’m the only one with access to them.”
Madison went on to relate the scene Rachel had described to Josh the night before. “Rachel’s pretty good at hiding things, but I had a hunch she was getting sick about the time they were loading Ben Lambert’s coffin on the private jet for the return to Dallas.”
“I can tell you that Rachel related this same story to me last night. One of the other clinic doctors is examining her this morning. And, before you ask, I’m sure we can trust Dr. Neeves to be discreet.” Josh rolled his stool forward a bit. “Now let’s talk about you. After that incident, what kind of symptoms have you developed?”
“I didn’t say I had symptoms,” Madison said. He coughed again. “Well, I might have picked up a little respiratory infection while I was gone.”
“I noticed that. You have to be honest with me.”
“Even if it’s nothing serious?” Madison asked.
“Yes. Because you’re used to being invulnerable. I suspect chiefs of state, even those no longer in the limelight, feel that way.” When Madison started to speak, Josh stopped him with an upraised hand. “Don’t worry. It’s the same with doctors.”
Madison gave a wry grin. “You got me. All right. I had a raw throat a few days ago—probably two days after the incident with the native woman. A day or two later I developed a mild cough. I still have it. And I might have a bit of a fever.”
Josh nodded. “Well, let’s have a look at you.” When he’d finished, he stowed his stethoscope in the pocket of his lab coat. “I’m going to take a swab from your throat and ask our lab to culture the material and also to make a slide, stain it, and look for bacteria. I want to get a chest X-ray and some blood work. The nurse will assist you and bring you back here when you’re done.”
“What do you think?”
“It may be nothing more than a routine viral or bacterial respiratory infection, but I want to be certain.” He smiled.
“Sounds like you’re being extra thorough, but you’re the doctor,” Madison said. “I can see why Ben Lambert thought so highly of you.”
As Josh exited the exam room, he wondered if that confidence was misplaced. Was he overreacting? He hoped not. But the incident with the woman flinging liquid at Madison troubled him. It could be that she was just someone angry with the Americans who’d come to their small town. But perhaps there was more to it than that.
Meanwhile,
