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"Besides, the people have missed seeing their First Lady. You've received thousands of cards and letters wish-EXCLUSIVE 229

ing you a speedy recovery. They can't go unacknowledged, Vanessa."

"Of course I'll acknowledge them. I'll get my staff on it right away. But can't we delay the press conference? Just for a few days?"

"It's already scheduled," David snapped. "Dalton would have a fit.

Besides, if we cancel now, it'll only generate more speculation on why you were at Highpoint under the care of a private nurse. I can't afford any more negative press. Haven't you already cost me enough?"

"David!" Clete bellowed. "For God's sake."

He sighed. "I'm sorry. That was a terrible thing to say. I didn't mean it." He approached his wife, this time placing his hands on her shoulders.

Clete could have sworn that she actually recoiled. "We've all been under a tremendous strain, but you more than anyone," he said gently. "Skip the press conference today if you want. It isn't that important. I shouldn't have insisted that you appear if you don't feel up to it."

Vanessa looked quickly toward her father, who saw in his daughter's eyes panic and helplessness. But she said, "No, David, I'll be there. It's my duty as First Lady."

He pressed her shoulders. "That's my girl. I wouldn't have scheduled the conference if I thought it would cause you a setback. George has assured me that you're strong enough. In fact, he told me that the sooner you get back into the swing of things, the better you'll feel."

"What do I have to do?"

"Nothing. Dalton will deliver a brief eulogy to Mrs. Gaston. He'll credit you with writing it, but he'll read it. All you have to do is stand there and look pretty for the cameras. You can handle that, can't you?" "Of course she can," Clete said expansively. "What time does she need to be downstairs?"

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"Shortly before eleven. If you could stay with her until then, Clete, I've got some matters to attend to." With that, David left the room.

"You should eat something, Vanessa."

"I'm not hungry. I. drank some orange juice earlier." She crossed to the window and parted the drapes. "Daddy, I didn't want to bring it up in front of David, but did I hear him mention Gray?"

"Unfortunately," he grumbled. He had decided not to tell her about Bondurant's reappearance on the scene and wasn't at all happy that David had let it slip. "I hoped we'd seen the last of Rambo."

"He's here in Washington?"

"He was. By now, he's probably tucked tail and gone slinking back to Wyoming."

"You always hated him. You shouldn't have. He was nice to me. I wish I could see him."

"Let's not argue about him, Vanessa."

"What was he doing here? What brought him back?"

"It's a long story."

"I'd like to hear it."

"It can wait for another time. You've got plenty to deal with already."

"I want to hear about Gray," she demanded in a shrill voice.

Her composure was so tenuous, Clete obliged her. But only to a point. "I don't know what brought him back," he lied. "All I know is that he was in the company of Barrie Travis. I can't think of a more hazardous combination. On the other hand, the two of them richly deserve each other."

"How did Gray link up with her?"

"Who knows? What difference does it make? She's as unethical as they come.

Bondurant is . . . Why go into it, Vanessa? You know what a low opinion I have of him."

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"He's not like you think, Daddy. Not at all. He-"

Clete laid his thick index finger vertically against her lips. "I don't want to know, Vanessa."

"But you have to know. I have to talk about it." There were fractures in the beautiful mask the stylist had created for the press conference. Her blue eyes were riddled with emotional turmoil.

"Not now," he said softly. "Later."

"Things are so messed up. I'm messed up, aren't I? David's just pretending I'm well. But I'm not. You know it too, don't you? I'm . . . cracked on the inside, aren't I? I can feel it."

"Shh, shh," he said, drawing her close. Pressing her face into his lapel, he placed his lips close to her ear and whispered, "Listen to me, Vanessa.

You've always trusted me to take care of things, haven't you? Well, I'm still taking care of things. You've got to trust me. I'll handle it. A11

of it. I promise. Okay?"

She pulled away. He gazed deeply into her eyes, hoping that his message would penetrate her confusion and the drugs in her system. Finally she nodded.

"Good. Now, go powder your nose," he said cheerfully. "The First Lady of the U.S. of A. can't appear on TV with a shiny honker!"

She headed to the bathroom, then turned back. "Will Spence be there this morning?"

"I suppose so. Why?"

"Nothing. I haven't seen him since I got back, that's all."

The senator's heavy brows pulled together above the bridge of his nose.

"Come to think of it, I haven't seen him around in a while, either."

"you're as dry as a cornstalk in August."

David poked and probed, but, although it was uncomfortable, Vanessa didn't protest. Her pleasure was derived from his futile attempts to penetrate her. "All my juices are gone, David. You dried them up."

"No, you used them up creaming for Bondurant."

Wedging his hand between their bodies, he separated the tender folds of flesh and rammed into her. She bit her lip to keep from crying out and giving him the satisfaction of knowing he'd hurt her. This travesty of making love wasn't even sex. It was domination. He was exercising his power over her, wanting to leave no doubt of his supreme authority. His insults had lost the impact they'd once had. Repetition had weakened their effect.

With another guttural litany of obscenities, he climaxed. As he rolled off of her, he was gloating.

"Before congratulating yourself, David, keep in mind that there's no life in you." She plucked a tissue from the box on the nightstand and wiped away the semen between her thighs. "You're sterile, remember?"

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"Shut up."

"Even if I'd known about your secret vasectomy, I probably would have taken a lover just for the experience of making love with a man who's capable of giving life."

"If you say that again, I'll-"

"You'll what, David?"

"I don't think you want to know."

"Are you threatening me? You want threats? Okay. What about the night Robert Rushton died?"

"Why do you keep dredging that up, Vanessa? It serves us both best to bury it, just like we did the kid."

She came off the bed but remained at its side, confronting him. Naked, the physical effects of her recent ordeal were startling. She had lost so much weight that her pelvic bone protruded grotesquely from her concave abdomen. Her skin had lost its elasticity and hung in loose pouches where toned muscles had been.

Ordinarily, she would have been frantic over such unsightly changes in her form. But she was unmindful of everything except her consummate loathing for the man lying supine on the bed.

She'd been semiconscious when they transported her from Highpoint to Washington. This morning, she'd been as taut as a highwire. Drug juggling.

That's what George was doing for David. He was playing with her medication, keeping her high or low to suit her husband's purposes. How much could her system stand?

More stabilized now, and able to assess her situation clearly, she wasn't certain that she preferred this soundness of mind. Cognizance bore a shocking reality-namely, that Nurse Gaston's untimely death had halted David's plans for her.

She had endured the press conference like the well-bred politician she was. Standing between her husband and her

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father, facing the lights and cameras and microphones which had been part of her life for as long as she could remember, she wondered if anyone watching was aware of the terror that gripped her. Or if anyone had noticed the jewelry she was wearing. More to the point, had anyone noticed the piece of jewelry she wasn't wearing?

David hadn't noticed. Emboldened by that small success, she said, "You think you're so smart to have everybody believing that little Robert died of SIDS."

"Which is preferable to everybody knowing the truth about him, isn't it?

Wouldn't you rather everyone believe the lie? You like being First Lady.

What would happen to you if the world learned the truth?"

"You're not thinking of what would happen to me," she said scornfully.

"You're thinking of what would happen to you. To make damn sure the truth never comes to light, Dr. Allan was going to kill me with my medication, wasn't he?"

"You're delusional, Vanessa."

"No, tonight I'm seeing things with frightening clarity." She laughed mirthlessly. "Too bad, David. You failed You failed. I'm still here.

Weaker, maybe, but with every intention of making your life a living hell, just as you've made mine."

"Yes, anyone can see how hellish your life is." He sat up and gazed around at the luxurious surroundings. "You live in the most prestigious house in the nation. You're married to the most important man in the world. You have so many people granting your every whim, you can't possibly keep track of them all. You don't even know the names of the people who make your life so comfortable and seamless.

"Clothing designers line up, begging for the opportunity to outfit you.

You travel on Air Force One, and have access to several yachts. A fleet of chauffeured limousines is at your disposal. An entire nation and half the rest of the

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world adores you." He reached out to stroke her thigh. "It's no wonder you're so miserable, Vanessa."

She slapped his hand away. "Why didn't you just break my heart years ago, David? When I was young and helplessly in love, why didn't you abuse my love then and be done with it?"

"Because it's been fun to be the monster in your fairytale life. You think you're miserable, Vanessa, but you don't know what misery is. Misery is being poor, and helpless to do anything about it. Misery is living with two stinking drunks who make no secret of despising you just for being born, and knock you around for amusement.

"You grew up rich. Every goddamn thing you ever wanted was handed to you on a silver platter. You never had to beg or scrape or even wish for a single thing in your whole fucking life."

"Is that why you're punishing me?" she cried incredulously. "Because as a child I had more advantages than you?"

"No," he said evenly, "I'm punishing you because you spread your legs for a man I trusted and called my friend. That," he said scornfully, pointing toward the vee between her thighs, "caused him to betray me." His voice had risen and his face had become congested with rage.

"You betrayed me first," she shouted. "With dozens of other women.

Hundreds, maybe. God knows how many." Her hands formed tight fists of anger and despair. "I worshiped you, David. I was sixteen when you joined Daddy's campaign. I couldn't wait to grow up so I could marry you. I've always loved you. The only reason I broke my marriage vows was to hurt you.

"Despite the other women, I wanted our marriage to last. Even after I learned about your vasectomy and realized that the baby wasn't yours, I was willing to make a clean start. I wanted us to be in love again."

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David began to laugh, shaking his head sadly, indulgently. "Vanessa, I was never in love with you. Do you really think that if your name had been anything other than Armbruster I would have shackled myself for life to a stupid, shallow, sick bitch like you?"

She took in a quick breath and expelled it on a broken sob. Seeing his cold, implacable heartlessness, she wondered how she had ever been suckered in. What an amazing talent he had for charming people-her, her father, a nation of voters.

"You're evil," she said.

"And you're crazy. Anybody who knows you knows that." He brushed her aside as he rose from the bed and reached for his robe.

Vanessa gripped the back of a chair. "I'm not as stupid and shallow as you seem to think. I won't let you get away with trying to murder me."

"Careful, Vanessa," he said softly. "Threatening the President of the United States is a serious crime."

"I don't care what they do to me. I'm going to destroy you.

"Is that so?"

When he came toward her, it was difficult not to cower, but she stood her ground.

Until he backhanded her across the face.

She fell against the wall, holding her hand to her cheekbone, which felt like it was dismantling beneath her skin.

"Never threaten me again, Vanessa. You'll do nothing except continue being the vapid, obedient nonentity you've always been, first for your father, then for me.

"And speaking of Clete, don't imagine that you can topple me without dragging him down, too. He's been in on every crooked deal in Washington since the Johnson administration. You can't destroy me without destroying Daddy dear in the bargain. So call all the goddamn reporters you EXCLUSIVE 237

want, and drop hints about malcontent in the White House, but be prepared to see the end of Senator Clete Armbruster."

He strode to the door, but got in a parting shot. "At one time you were a pretty good piece of ass. Now, you're not even that."

He walked quickly across the corridor to his own bedroom, giving cursory nods to the Secret Service agents who wished him a good night. Even though he'd won the round with Vanessa-and it hadn't even been a close contest-he'd come away from it angry. The problem of what to do about her was still unresolved.

God damn that nurse!

His bed had been turned down. The nightstand lamp was low. The chamber looked intimate and inviting. He thought about summoning one of his regulars, the syndicated columnist who was a strong advocate of women's rights in print but whose blow jobs were legendary. She thought that being sneaked into the White House was a big turn-on and usually rewarded him well for the thrill. But Vanessa's whining had squelched his desire. Which only gave him more justification to be steamed.