Augustine remained standing before the French doors, framed between the American flag and the blue-and-white President’s flag, backlit by the wash of hot May sunlight coming through the scrubbed glass. To Justice the President looked imposing in that aspect, larger than life. But then Augustine came forward in heavy movements and sat at the desk, and the illusion vanished and he was just a handsome man in his mid-fifties-cool, sharply drawn features, fine cheekbones, gentle gray eyes. A weary man, too, Justice thought. You could see that in the faint slump of his shoulders, in the crosshatched lines under the eyes and around the wide mouth, in the distracted motions of his hands as he began straightening the clutter of papers in front of him.

“Well, Christopher,” the President said finally, “I suppose you’ve read this morning’s papers.”

“Yes sir, I’ve read them.”

“Do you think my comments at the press conference yesterday were anti-Semitic?”

“No sir, of course not.”

“Of course not,” Augustine agreed, and there was heat in his deep baritone voice. “I said, quote, Israel’s decision to conduct their first atomic experiments on the Sinai is as regrettable as Egypt’s similar decision, and I am distressed by the automatic trend of American foreign policy to support Israel in any dispute between that nation and other Middle Eastern powers. It permits us potentially to be held hostage to another’s rather arbitrary actions. In the event of conflict I would not commit this administration at this time to the defense of Israel or any Middle Eastern nation. Unquote. If that is an anti-Semitic statement I’m a steam locomotive.”