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my physical.”
    The guard cleared his throat. “Lt. Howe said to remind you that you've postponed twice this month, sir. If you don't come down, he said he's coming up.”
    “Later,” the admiral snapped.
    What he meant was
never.
    He glared at Sam's surgeon, including him in the orders that followed. “This patient is to be kept completely isolated. I want one of my guards in the room with him at all times.”
    The surgeon said nothing, and the guard waited impassively. Only Admiral Howe knew the reason for all the secrecy.
    During three months of deep cover work in California andMexico, Sam McKade had targeted serious problems in the Navy's weapons research program at China Lake. He was on his way to report in person to Admiral Howe and his staff when he'd jumped aboard that school bus. Now three months of highly sensitive information was locked inside his head.
    Admiral Howe had to keep his asset alive—and awake— long enough to convey the results of his investigation.
    Howe left the surgeon to his work and strode off the ward with the senator close behind. “Admiral, I must protest this high-handed—”
    “Later,” he barked, barreling into the elevator.
    He found his son pacing restlessly at the first-floor nursing station.
    “How's he doing?” his son asked.
    “You know better than to ask for that kind of information.”
    Lt. Peter Howe glared suspiciously at his father. “Don't tell me you're planning to cancel
another
physical.”
    The admiral ignored the question, frowning at his son's cast. “How's the arm?”
    “It was a simple fracture. They say I'll be back to work in about two weeks. Stop changing the subject. Your doctor's been holding all his patients for the last hour so he could fit you in, and you're not missing another physical.”
    The admiral sighed. Physicals were worse than piloting a rowboat in a force-ten gale. After the annoying questions, they got out the gloves and the
real
torment began.
    Suddenly the admiral smiled. Maybe a physical was a good idea after all. Even the president's top aide couldn't follow him into an examining room while he was getting gowned and prepped for a rectal exam.
    “Miss my physical? I wouldn't dream of it.” Howe hid a smile at the surprise on his son's face. “Now, enough about my health. Tell me about this new task force you've been assigned to. Better yet, come home for dinner tonight and give me the full story.”

Chapter Seven
    ANNIE'S FAX MACHINE CHATTERED NONSTOP FOR THE NEXT FOUR days. In between making final arrangements for Sam's arrival, Izzy scanned the incoming flood of reports and schedules. A Navy doctor was to accompany Sam on the flight, and Annie had already faxed him a list of questions.
    Next had come the question of security. Turning over her guest list had pained Annie keenly, but Izzy had explained it was necessary. Since Annie suspected he could assemble the information from other sources, she'd finally given in.
    Not that she thought the honeymooners in suite 36 posed a threat to world freedom. On the other hand, maybe the rabbits did.
    It was almost two in the morning when Annie finally walked Izzy to her guesthouse, which was separated from the main house by a courtyard and a small garden. Hiding a yawn, she checked that he had fresh towels, then added a down comforter.
    “Anything new I should know about?”
    “Nothing crucial. Sam's itinerary is set, barring any lastminute medical complications. They're still watching that metal plate in his knee.” He frowned. “I know you haven't had a lot of time to deal with this. Why don't you catch some extra sleep in the morning while I familiarize myself with the resort and your staff?”
    “Can't.” Annie fought off another yawn. “I'm a basket case without my morning run. After that I have two honeymooning couples arriving, and I want to be on hand to greet them.”
    “Your call.” Izzy took the stack of towels and tossed the comforter on the couch. “Just remember,