Earl was not fully convinced, though. Despite wanting to glance at the young man for another look, he wouldn't allow himself. Besides, he could almost feel the young man's eyes on him. If the two did happen to know each other, Earl's cover would be blown.

Earl crept only a few feet behind Mansfield, though he made sure to keep his back turned.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," an older woman said, forcing her way next to Mansfield. "But I need to speak with the guest of honor for a moment." She turned to Peter when the men cleared away. "Are you having a nice time, Peter?"

"Yes, Mrs. Aston. You have a wonderful home and truly the most fabulous guests," Mansfield responded.

"Thank you, you are so kind," Mrs. Aston replied. "But how many times do I have to tell you? Call me Maria."

Earl overheard as Mansfield told his hostess that he must leave soon, that he wished to stay longer but had prior engagements tonight. When Earl heard this, his heart sank. If he didn't act soon, he would have come all this way for nothing.

"Oh, that's a pity," Mrs. Aston replied, disappointment evident in her voice. "You will at least say a few words to the guests before you go." She paused and Earl could almost sense Mansfield trying to think of an excuse not to make a speech. "If only for the good of the benefit," she pleaded.

"Yes, of course," he acquiesced.

"Wonderful, come over to the center of the room then."

Earl watched the older woman take Mansfield by the arm and escort him toward the center of the room. She tapped her glass until the room went quiet.

I need to think of something and think of it fast, Earl thought. His mind conjured the only plan now available to him. He practically sprinted out of the ballroom, leaving as quickly as he could without bringing too much attention upon himself. As Earl entered the hallway, he heard the Chief of Staff's voice over the silence of the crowd. He could only hope the man's speech lasted a few minutes.

Peter Mansfield read from a small stack of note cards, trying to keep his voice strong even though he was clearly bored.

Almost done. Just hurry and finish reading the cards so I can get out of here, he urged himself.

"So on behalf of the Astons, as well as President Marshall, I would like to thank each and every person here tonight. Every single person knows someone who has been affected by cancer, but with your donations tonight, researchers will be well funded to take steps toward finding a cure for this awful malady. The generosity of you fine people is truly heartwarming and any additional contributions to this worthwhile charity will be greatly appreciated, especially by those in need," Mansfield said, pausing momentarily as he received applause from the crowd. As the noise died down, he shoved his speech in his pocket and said one last thing. "I would also like to thank the Astons for putting this benefit together. They host this party every year and they do a wonderful job showing guests a good time."

Another round of applause filled the ballroom and Mansfield saw the Astons waving to the crowd. Although they seemed like a nice enough couple, one that could truly understand the need for cancer research considering Mrs. Aston's past medical history, Mansfield still thought that rich people put together these kinds of events more to feed their massive egos than truly help those in need. And based upon the joyous look on the elderly couple's faces as they received applause, the Chief of Staff assumed they were no different.

The clapping died down and was replaced by the same soft music that had been playing throughout the night. The crowd once again broke into smaller groups of discussion and Mansfield could almost hear about the newest ways these wealthy industrialists made their millions.

Finally, I can get the hell out of here, Peter thought, trying to stop himself from tugging at the uncomfortable tuxedo. This damn tie is killing me.

He walked over to the Astons and shook their hands.

"Thank you very much for having me," Mansfield said, attempting to sound as tactful as possible. If I have to kiss ass for one more second, I'm going to scream.

The Chief of Staff did not wait for their reply before walking toward the entrance. The Astons followed close behind him.

"Are you sure you can't stay just a little while longer? It might help us raise more money," Mrs. Aston pleaded.

"Let him go, dear," Mr. Aston told his wife. "He is a very important man and has important things to do."

"I'm afraid your husband is correct, ma'am," Peter said, continuing to walk while the elderly couple tried to keep up. "I wish I could stay all night but I was unfortunately able to spare only a few hours from my schedule. My job demands most of my time, especially when the President is out of the country."

"I understand," Mrs. Aston said sadly. "But please allow us to show you out."

Peter made no objection but still did not slow down as the three made their way across the large, packed ballroom.

He certainly seems like a nice enough guy. I'm sure he'll understand the position I'm in, Tyler thought after he heard Mansfield's speech. Maybe I should ask him now before too many people start talking to him again.

Throughout the Chief of Staff's speech, Tyler paid little attention to what the man said. Instead, he was busy looking around the ballroom, trying to find one of the waiters. A few minutes before, he'd finally decided to allow himself a glass of champagne, thinking one drink might make him a bit friendlier and looser when he made his plea to Peter Mansfield. After all, his first attempt to talk to him had not gone well.

When Tyler finally came across a waiter, the shorter man carried only an empty tray. If this particular waiter had been any of the others he'd seen all night, Tyler would have ignored him. But when he looked at the waiter's face, it was as though a light bulb went off in his mind.

Or at least the bulb tried to go off in his mind. In actuality, the bulb only dimmed his mind, as the identity of the waiter eluded him. His face looked so familiar, though. For some reason, he kept seeing that face in his mind and couldn't stop thinking that somehow, some way, the identity of this waiter was vital to the reason he'd come to this benefit.

What are you doing? You're letting yourself get sidetracked because you think you recognize one of the waiters? Tyler knew his strange feeling was probably silly but he continued to look around the ballroom during Mansfield's entire speech. After five minutes of unsuccessful searching, Tyler forced himself to forget the waiter, or at least make this hunt a secondary goal for the night. Once Mansfield began thanking the Astons at the end of his speech for throwing this benefit, Tyler again focused on the Chief of Staff.

When Mansfield's speech ended, Tyler scanned the audience and found Mansfield, distressed to find the man walking toward the exit. Behind him, he saw that the Astons appeared quite upset.

Why would they be upset? Tyler thought, as he watched Mansfield inch through the crowds, getting closer and closer to the exit. When he realized the Chief of Staff was leaving, Tyler's feet again felt glued to the ground. He knew he needed to talk to the man, and the only way he could do that was to rush and catch him before he left. But there was some kind of invisible force that made him feel frozen in place. Tyler watched in despair, the way a child might watch as his parents were taken away by the police, feeling both helpless and hopeless.

I'm not some kind of weak child, Tyler tried telling himself. I'm important. I own one of the biggest companies in the country and it is my right to speak with the Chief of Staff if I damn well please.

By the time Tyler convinced his feet to get moving, he saw that Peter Mansfield already reached the ballroom's exit. Crossing the large ballroom was not as easy as Tyler hoped with so many people crowded together so tightly. In some spots, he literally had to use force to make his way through.

"Watch where you're going, young man," an older man said after Tyler nearly knocked him to the ground. Tyler recognized a few of these men as some of the wealthiest men in America but at this moment, he would have knocked over the Pope if it meant getting to Mansfield before he left.

Once Mansfield walked through the large front door of the mansion and stood in the fresh air, his urgency to leave had subsided a bit. Feeling refreshed at breathing air that wasn't stale, he waited by the front door as the Astons hurried to catch him.

"Again, thank you for coming, Peter," Mrs. Aston said. Mansfield shook hands with the Astons one more time before walking down the steps toward the driveway.

"Peter, I can have one of the house boys run down to the parking lot and fetch your limo," Mr. Aston offered. "You don't have to walk all the way down there."

Mansfield looked down the driveway and saw that all the limos weren't parked more than a few hundred feet away. He would've walked five miles right now to get away from these people one moment sooner.

"That's okay. A walk will do me good," he said, heading down the steps toward the limos. Peter arrived to the party in the Presidential limo and saw that it was given the best parking spot. It was parked at the end of the row and would have no trouble getting onto the driveway.

Mansfield loosened his tie as walked down the driveway, ecstatic that his dreadful night was finally coming to an end, yet still feeling annoyed that Marshall forced him to come here. Oh well, I guess it could've been worse. Peter had not even walked ten feet down the driveway when things indeed got worse.

Mr. and Mrs. Aston closed the door to their mansion when Peter Mansfield began walking down the driveway.

"He must not come from money," Mr. Aston said. "Can you imagine? Walking to get to your limo?" He and his wife chuckled at the thought. "That's why you have a limo, so you don't have to worry about parking lots and finding your car."

"I know," his wife agreed. "He was certainly a wretched man, wasn't he? And unless I'm mistaken, I could have sworn he did not want to be here in the first place. For Pete's sake, he only stayed an hour."

"No, dear. For Peter's sake," Mr. Aston said, again causing them both to chuckle.

"And for our sake," she added.

The wealthy couple continued to laugh as they walked down the hallway, quickly heading back to the ballroom and their guests. Tyler Ainsworth Jr. rushed out of the ballroom doors as the Astons strolled back in.

"See," Mrs. Aston said. "Your guest of honor leaves and everyone follows. We'd better make sure to keep the rest of the people here as long as possible. I refuse to have one of my parties fail to be the talk of the town."

Before entering the ballroom, Mrs. Aston glanced one more time at the young man, who had started running toward the exit.

"Can we talk, please?" a man's voice said.

Mansfield recognized the voice before realizing a man was hidden among a row of bushes, just out of sight of the numerous light posts that lined the driveway. It was a voice Peter had not heard for nearly three years. For a moment, Mansfield felt incredibly nervous, especially considering what he'd done to this man. But this nervousness quickly turned to anger when he remembered the reason he'd had Earl Ackerman sent to the nut house.

"What the hell are you doing here? If the Secret Service discovers you sneaking around, you will be thrown in jail for trespassing," Mansfield warned. Ackerman had threatened his life at gunpoint a few years earlier but the Chief of Staff was not afraid that this man was here to harm him. If Earl wanted to hurt him, he could've done so without first asking to talk.

"I don't think I have to worry about that. I know the Secret Service isn't even here tonight," Ackerman said.

How can he possibly know that? Mansfield thought. He's apparently done his homework. Maybe he is here to hurt me after all.

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened a few years ago," Mansfield said, covering the chance that Ackerman actually tracked him down to enforce some kind of vendetta. "But you held a gun to me and it seemed like you'd lost it. We were just trying to get you help."

"The past is in the past," Earl said. "I was a very different person then, not so good at handling pressure. I'm better now, though. That I promise you."

"Come into the light so I can see you better," Mansfield demanded, wanting to see that Earl wasn't hiding a weapon. "I don't like talking to people I can't see."

Earl preferred the darkness but realized he'd better listen to Mansfield if he wanted to get back on good terms with him. Earl stepped into the light, clearly not holding anything.

"You were a waiter?" Mansfield asked, noting Earl's attire. "What did you do, crash the party?"

"Let's not talk about that," Earl said, trying to avoid any conversation that led Mansfield to believe that he was still crazy. "I'm a changed man now. I've taught myself how to channel nervous energy into more productive activities."

"By stalking me? I'm supposed to believe the word of a man who dressed as a waiter to sneak into a benefit? Do you understand how strange that makes you seem?" Mansfield asked, his anger rising as his fear of Ackerman diminished. "I don't have time for this. Get away from me. If you ever try to contact me again, I will have you thrown back into Mimosa Grove."

Mansfield began to walk toward his limo again but Earl quickly jumped in front of him.

"Please," he begged. "It's crucial that I have just a few minutes of your time. I think my prolonged silence deserves at least that."

Although breaking into the benefit technically made Earl a stalker, Mansfield could see the man was desperate and might have a good reason for being so. At one time, Earl had proven himself valuable to the 'Inner Circle', so Mansfield thought he might have important information now that could prove helpful.

"What is it then? And make it quick."

"I'm building a shelter," Earl spit out, not hesitating to get straight to the point. With Mansfield, Earl knew he might not have a second chance to say what he needed.

"I'm sorry," Mansfield said. "But there's no way the government can help with that. We're already blowing way too much money on-"

"I don't want help," Earl interrupted. "I guess the President didn't receive the letter I sent him."

"The letter?"

"That's not important now," Earl said. "But I heard the probe blew up. How could that have happened? I thought there was supposed to be a nuclear weapon on board."

"There was," Mansfield said, wondering where this conversation was headed.

"How come no effects of a nuclear blast have shown up on Earth?" Earl asked. "Surely the probe couldn't have gotten so far out of the atmosphere that nuclear contamination was totally averted."

At this point, Mansfield remembered that Earl was not told the extended plans concerning the comet-intercepting probe. Mansfield easily could have explained the situation to Earl but did not think it wise to trust him with that kind of information. After all, if he and the President decided not to tell him the plans three years ago, Peter certainly wasn't going to tell him now that he'd gone crazy.

"That information is privileged," Mansfield said. "I'm sorry but if you came here to chat about old times, you wasted your time."

"Fine, but at least tell me one thing," Earl pleaded. "Is the comet still on track to hit where we originally thought?"

Mansfield stood silently, wondering if he should even trust Earl with this much knowledge. He was also beginning to wonder about this letter Earl apparently sent and whether he should tell President Marshall about this encounter with Ackerman.

Strange, the President was just talking about bringing Earl back into the 'Circle.' It's a good thing Earl approached me and not the President. Marshall might have actually let him back in.

"I can still be a valuable part of the group, you know," Earl said, as if reading Mansfield's mind. "With Neil and Henry both dead, you could use more help, at least if you haven't told more people already."

The exact same argument the President used. This could be bad for me if Marshall finds out and lets this nutcase back in the loop.

"The comet is still on the same path," Mansfield said.

Earl exhaled a deep sigh.

"What about letting me back into the group? If only to tell me what's going on. The space station you're building has something to do with Clement, right?"

"I'll have to talk to President Marshall to find out if you're allowed to know about anything else," Mansfield replied. "Once I find out, I'll get back to you."

"Thank you. Thank you so much. I promise, you won't regret it," Earl said.

"Regret it? I already regret seeing you," Mansfield said cruelly. "I could never trust you because of what you did to me. But it's up to the President now to decide what you should or shouldn't know."

Earl nodded and moved out of Mansfield's way. He watched as the Chief of Staff walked away, disappearing into a limo that pulled out of its parking spot and drove down the long, winding driveway. The meeting had not gone quite as smoothly as Earl hoped but it also didn't go as badly as it could have. Mansfield was a very tough nut to crack but at least Earl felt he made a small dent in the man's tough exterior.

He stood in the driveway for nearly a minute. For the first time during his entire trip, Earl was unprepared for what to do next. Time to leave, walk back to my truck.

He glanced back up at the large mansion, finally able to view the home as a magnificent work of architecture rather than a formidable obstacle he must overtake. Earl noticed a man standing in the shadows just outside the doorway. He could not see the man's face yet feared the man must be a government spy.

Could Mansfield have alerted somebody of my presence already?

Earl was not about to find out. He turned down the driveway and ran, hoping that whoever was near the door would not phone down to the guardhouse.

Tyler wanted to call out to the familiar waiter to stop where he was but instead watched as the man disappeared down the long driveway.

After having run through the mansion to catch Peter Mansfield before he left, Tyler came to a screeching halt when he ran through the front door and saw the Chief of Staff talking to a group of bushes. After a minute of observing this, Tyler saw a man emerge from the bushes. Tyler still could not clearly see the man while the two men conversed.

Not wanting to be rude and interrupt their conversation, Tyler waited by the front door, figuring he would run after Mansfield when the two stopped talking. While watching the two men, he still tried to think of exactly what to say to the Chief of Staff. Because of the man's unexpected departure from the benefit, Tyler knew he'd have to condense his explanation. Hopefully, the Chief of Staff would be understanding about what Tyler had to The man Mansfield spoke to took a few steps forward and stood directly under a light. Although the two men were forty feet away, Tyler saw them perfectly. In that first brief moment of seeing the stranger, two major revelations slammed into Tyler's mind.

First, Tyler saw that the man Mansfield was talking to was the same familiar waiter he'd briefly spoken to in the ballroom.