The President shook his head, ran a hand over a fan of cables. “These are communications from the distinguished secretary of state. He thinks I made a dangerous error, but that he might be able to save the situation. That’s how he puts it in one of these cables: ‘I might be able to save the situation.’ Oberdorfer, you know, can be a horse’s ass without half-trying.”

Justice began to feel uncomfortable. He was, after all, only a Secret Service bodyguard; he was not sure it was proper for Augustine to be talking to him so candidly about issues and personalities. But more and more of late the President had taken to summoning him for brief, off-the-cuff discussions that had become increasingly confidential. Justice was flattered that the President would choose him as a confidante, but he simply did not feel qualified to share the more intimate details of political life.

Augustine plucked a folded section of the Washington Post from under a pile of folders. “The editorial in here is damned near libelous,” he said. “Did you see it, Christopher?”

“I skimmed it, yes sir.”

“They not only infer that I’m a racist, they say I’ve been ignoring foreign policy, implementing superficial domestic programs, and spending too much time at The Hollows. They say I’m retreating from responsibility and insulating myself from the realities of my office.” Irritably the President tossed the paper into his wastebasket. “They want us to believe those are the sentiments of the American people. Well I don’t believe it for a minute.”

“Neither do I, sir,” Justice said.

The President fell silent again, staring down at the desk top. The desk was massive, six feet long and four feet wide, made from the timbers of a British sailing barque, a present from Queen Victoria to President Rutherford B. Hayes in 1879-the same desk President Kennedy and then President Carter had used. On one corner of it was a small O-scale brass model of a locomotive, one of several of his collection of railroad items that adorned the office; Augustine lifted it, looked at it for a long moment, put it down again and picked up a gold-framed photograph of the First Lady taken at the White House Inaugural Ball.