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celebrity entrepreneur, a fact which he apparently shamelessly admitted in one of his interviews. And to do this, he’s made a rather large gamble career-wise and financially. He wants his newly founded company based on his patented procedure to succeed for very personal, if not superficial, reasons.”
    â€œSo what is it you want to do?” Carol asked. “Phil wants you on record favoring a ban on his procedure. It’s that simple.”
    â€œCircumstances have made it a little more complicated than that. I want to make the good doctor do something he most assuredly wouldn’t want to do.”
    Concern spread across Carol’s broad face. “Does Phil know about this?”
    Ashley shook his head. He made a motion for Carol to give him back the prepared opening statement and took it when she held it out.
    â€œWhat is it you want the doctor to do?”
    â€œYou and he will know tonight,” Ashley said, as his eyes began scanning the opening statement. “It would take too long to explain at the moment.”
    â€œThis is scaring me,” Carol admitted out loud. She lookedup and down the hallway as Ashley read his speech. She shifted her weight uneasily. Carol’s ultimate goal and the reason she’d sacrificed so much of her own life to her current position was that she wanted to run for Ashley’s office when he retired, a situation that promised to occur sooner rather than later because of the Parkinson’s disease diagnosis. She was more than qualified, having served as a state senator prior to coming to Washington to run Ashley’s show, and at this late date with her goal in sight, she didn’t want him pulling some sort of stunt to do what Bill Clinton did to Al Gore. Ever since that fateful evening visit to Dr. Whitman, Ashley had been preoccupied and unpredictable. She cleared her throat to get her boss’s attention. “Exactly how are you planning on getting Dr. Lowell to do something he doesn’t want to do?”
    â€œBy setting him up and then pulling the rug out from under him,” Ashley said, with his eyes rising to meet Carol’s. He grinned conspiratorially. “I’m in a battle here, and I want to win. To do that, I’m going to follow an age-old cue from The Art of War : Figure out the necessary points of engagement, then arrive there with overwhelming force! Let me see the financial report on his company!”
    Carol juggled the file of papers she was carrying before producing the paper Ashley wanted. She handed it to him, and he rapidly scanned it. She watched his face for clues. She wondered if she should call Phil on her cell phone the second she had a chance and warn him to be ready for the unexpected.
    â€œThis is good,” Ashley mumbled. “This is very good. It’s a lucky thing I have those contacts over at the Bureau. We couldn’t have gotten much of this on our own.”
    â€œMaybe you should go over with Phil whatever it is you are planning to do,” Carol suggested.
    â€œNo time,” Ashley responded. “In fact, what time is it now?”
    Carol glanced at her watch. “It’s after ten.”
    Ashley held out his left hand supported by his right in order to check for any tremor. There was a slight one, but it was hardly noticeable. “That’s as good as can be expected. Let’s go to work!”
    Ashley entered the hearing room from the side door to the right of the horseshoe-shaped, raised dais. The room was filledwith a meandering, jostling crowd of people from which emerged a buzz of incoherent conversation. Ashley had to worm his way between colleagues and staffers to reach his seat. The redheaded Rob appeared immediately with a second copy of Ashley’s prepared opening statement. Ashley waved him off by flapping the copy he already had in his hand. Ashley took his seat and adjusted the goosenecked microphone.
    After Ashley’s eyes had made a rapid