The large black man practically filled the doorway. He watched as the two Secret Service Agents conducted a visual sweep of the room, their weapons drawn and ready. After checking under the bed and looking in the closet, they directed their attention to the man on the bed.

There, on the rumpled sheets, lay Eugene Walters, vice president of the United States of America. His thick, gray hair was scattered all over his head. His face was pale, save for several smears of bright red lipstick. Both eyes were open. So was his mouth, although there seemed to be the slight suggestion of a smile. Yet the first thing one noticed about the body of the man who had recently been just a heartbeat away from the presidency was the erection -- still quite vigorous.

One of the agents stood and watched as the other checked for a pulse on Walter’s left wrist. Then he laid his head on Walters’ chest. He looked at the large man standing in the doorway and shook his head.

"Aw, Jeeez!" the large man moaned.

Don Franklin, who had been the vice president’s chief of staff, was now technically unemployed.

He had arranged this trip as a "trade mission" to the Far East. He had explained to their hosts that the vice president would likely "see things favorably" if he had a chance to "relax" before the next morning’s discussions. And now his employer lay five feet away from him, naked and dead.

"It must have been a heart attack," said the agent who had checked for a pulse.

Franklin moved closer and examined the face.

"Nah, I think it was probably a stroke. Look at that eye." He pointed to the one that seemed to be filled with blood. "I was constantly reminding him to take his blood pressure pills."

The two agents began to perform CPR. One agent climbed onto the mattress and straddled the vice president’s hips while delivering rhythmic compressions to his sternum. The other clamped his lips over the lipstick-smeared mouth and blew into the man’s lungs — one breath for five of his partner’s compressions.

Akihiro Tanaka, the little trade group’s official liaison to the Japanese government, walked into the room. His eyes widened as he saw the agents performing CPR.

"Ah," Tanaka said. "It would seem Suki-chan was correct in her most unfortunate observation." He stopped suddenly, taking notice of the vice president’s erection.

"Honto! My goodness," he whispered.

Franklin turned to his host and noted the direction of his stare. "Tell you what, Tanaka-san. Would you do me an incredibly big favor and wait — out there?" He gestured toward the sitting room. "And is there a hotel doctor or someone you could call?"

"Oh, hai," Tanaka said a little too briskly, as if snapping out of a trance. "Yes, I will call him right away."

He hurried to the door, looking back over his shoulder as he went. Franklin waited until he could hear him speaking on the phone, then walked over and quietly closed the door. He turned to face the two agents, still working on the vice president. Walters was starting to turn blue.

"Boys, that there has got to be one of the jolliest looking dead men I’ve ever seen." Neither agent seemed to find the remark amusing. After

few more minutes, the agent performing the compressions paused to check for a pulse. He shook his head. "I’m no doctor, but I don’t think he’s coming back."

The agent providing the artificial respiration looked at his partner. The first agent nodded, giving him permission to stop. The second agent exhaled tiredly and lifted his head. The lipstick smears had transferred to his own face.

Franklin walked toward the agents and put his large hands on each of their shoulders.

"Now, fellas, I need you to hear me on this. I am not going to tell you how to report this. That would be wrong. I am, however, going to tell you what I’m going to say about it. And I think my version will be in the best interest, not only of our country, but of the memory of this fine public servant laying in stately repose on the bed."

"You want us to lie," said the first agent, matter-of-factly.

"No! Heavens no! I’m not going to lie either! When I speak to the White House, I will give them all the details. But with the media… merely the basics. Vice President Walters had either a heart attack or a stroke. That’s the truth. He died in bed. That is also the truth! Any embellishment of these very basic facts would go above and beyond the nation’s need to know. Do we really want to serve up the memory of this fine man to the snickering jackals who’d love nothing better than to besmirch him and everything he stood for? I think not!"

"When you put it that way…" the second agent said.

There was a knock on the door. "Mister Franklin?"

"We’ll be out in just a minute, Tanaka-san," Franklin shouted over his shoulder. He turned and addressed the agents. "Now, gentlemen, shall we make our vice president… presentable? Why don’t you fellows see if you can straighten out the bedroom a little. I’ll go have a word with our friend. Then I’ll be right back."

The agents looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, then set

about straightening the room. Franklin opened the door, closed it quickly behind him, and went to where his host was sitting. The girl sat on a couch, looking at her hands folded on her lap.

"The doctor, he will be up directly. He was having his dinner, so he may be a moment. Should I call him again and ask him to hurry?"

"I don’t believe that will be necessary, Tanaka-san," Franklin said."

Tanaka jumped to his feet and stood ramrod straight. "I most humbly regret this incident," he said, bowing low. "And, if you should so desire, I will take immediate measures to ensure that the young lady does not say anything to anyone about this."

Franklin looked at the girl. She was pretty. He supposed there were infinitely worse ways to die. Then he realized just what his host was suggesting.

"No, now wait a minute," he stammered. "If you’re talking about doing something to this young lady, then I must strongly…"

Tanaka looked confused for a moment, then his eyes brightened.

"Oh, my goodness, please forgive my inadequate use of your language," he said with a smile. "I meant only to say that she will be richly compensated and relocated at our expense — after promising to keep what happened here a matter of the utmost discretion. Suki-chan is a wonderful girl. A special girl. And a professional! It would not do to destroy such a beautiful flower in the full bloom of youth, neh?"

"Fine," Franklin said, relieved. The girl just sat on the couch, her face impassive.

"Tell you what," Franklin said, after an awkward silence. "Why don’t you see what’s keeping the doctor? I’ll see if the fellows need a hand."

He returned to the bedroom. The agents had done good work. Walters was lying on his back, under the covers, eyes shut, hands folded over his chest. He looked peaceful, as if he had died in his sleep during a pleasant dream. The only thing that seemed out of place was the tent-

pole effect of his erection on the bedspread. Franklin supposed the morticians would have some secret remedy. The lipstick smears had been wiped from the vice president’s face.

Franklin realized that something else would need cleaning.

"Did you fellows wash his…" Both agents shook their heads vigorously.

Franklin sighed. Well, he thought, he’d done worse during his time in government.

"That’s okay, you guys did a great job. Wanna wait outside with Tanaka-san?" They both exited.

Franklin walked to the bathroom and soaped up a washcloth. He grabbed a clean towel and walked toward the bed, exhaling in a long, whistling sigh. He had one more duty to perform for his boss. Then he would call Washington.

Neither job was particularly appealing.