“Get Singh in here right away!” She wheeled on Kadeem Adams. “What did you do to him?” “Nothing,” said Adams, but he seemed to be struggling to get even that single word out. Susan looked over at the president, lying on his bed, his head propped up, his eyes wide with terror, sweat beading on his forehead. Dr. Alyssa Snow was listening to his chest with a stethoscope. “Nothing my ass!” said Susan. “What did you do to him?” But Kadeem’s eyes were closed and he was swaying erratically from side to side, as if having trouble keeping his balance. He hadn’t touched him. He hadn’t done anything, and yet— “For God’s sake, Kadeem,” Susan exclaimed, “he’s recovering from heart surgery!” She heard rapid footfalls in the corridor outside, and then the door burst open, revealing Ranjip Singh in the company of one of the Secret Service agents.
