'Good morning, Arthur,' the President said warmly, offering his hand to Lexington. 'Jim, you know Levin, of course.'

'Yes,' Howden said, 'we've met. How are you. Admiral?'

'Good morning.' Admiral Rapoport nodded curtly and coolly. He seldom did more, notoriously having no patience either for small talk or social functions. The admiral – presidential assistant extraordinaire – had been a notable absentee from the previous evening's state banquet.

As the four men sat down, a tray of drinks was whisked in by a Filipino manservant. Arthur Lexington chose scotch and water, the President a dry sherry. Admiral Rapoport shook his head in refusal and, before James Howden, the man smilingly placed a glass of iced grape juice.

While the drinks were being served Howden watched the admiral covertly, recalling what he had heard of this man who (some said) was now virtually as powerful as the President himself.

Four years earlier Captain Levin Rapoport, USN, had been a regular navy officer on the point of compulsory retirement – compulsory because his superior admirals had twice passed him over for promotion despite a brilliant, highly-publicized career in pioneering underwater firing of intercontinental missiles. The trouble was that almost no one liked Levin Rapoport personally and a surprising number of influential superiors harboured feelings of active hatred. Mostly, the latter stemmed from a long-standing Rapoport habit of being dead right on every major issue affecting naval defence, and afterwards never hesitating to say 'I told you so', singling out by name those who had disagreed with him.

Coupled with this was a massive personal conceit (entirely justified, but unpleasant nonetheless), grossly bad manners, impatience with 'channels' and red tape, and open contempt for those whom Captain Rapoport considered his intellectual inferiors, as most were.

But what the higher navy brass had not foreseen in deciding to retire its controversial genius was the fierce outcry – from Congress and the public – at the prospect of the nation's loss if the Rapoport brain were no longer brooding actively upon its affairs. As one congressman put it succinctly, 'Goddam, we need the bastard.'

Thereupon, prodded sharply both from the Senate and White House, the Navy had climbed down and promoted Cap-rain Rapoport to rear-admiral, thus avoiding his retirement. Two years and two ranks later, following a series of fresh brilliances, Rapoport (a full admiral by now and pricklier than ever) had been whisked by the President from the Navy's orbit to be presidential chief of staff. Within a few weeks, through zeal, speed, and sheer ability, the new appointee was exercising more direct power than predecessors like Harry Hopkins, Sherman Adams, or Ted Sorenson had ever enjoyed.

Since then the list of directed achievements, known and unknown, had been formidable; a self-help overseas aid programme which, though late, was gaining America respect instead of contempt; at home, an agriculture policy which farmers fought savagely, claiming it wouldn't work, but (as Rapoport had said from the beginning would happen) it did; a crash research effort and, for long term, realignment of scientific education and pure research; and in law enforcement a crackdown on industrial fraud at one end of the scale and, at the other, a house-cleaning of labour, with Lufto, the once supreme labour hoodlum, ousted and jailed.

Someone (James Howden recalled) had asked in a moment of intimacy with the President, 'if Rapoport's that good, why doesn't he have your job?'

The President (it was said) had smiled benignly and answered, 'It's simply that I can get elected. Levin wouldn't receive six votes for dog catcher.'

Along the way, while the President had been acclaimed for his shrewdness in choosing talent. Admiral Rapoport continued to attract animosity and hate in much the same proportion as before.

James Howden wondered how this austere and harsh-minded man would affect Canada's destiny.

'Before we go on,' the President said, 'I'd like to ask: have you been getting everything you need at Blair House?'

Arthur Lexington replied smilingly, 'We're being cosseted with kindness.'

'Well, I'm glad of that.' The President had settled himself comfortably behind the big desk. 'Sometimes we have a little trouble over the road there – like when the Arabs burned incense, and part of the house along with it. Though I guess you won't check under the panelling the way the Russians did, looking for concealed microphones.'

'We'll promise not to,' Howden said, 'if you'll tell us where they are.'

The President gave his throaty chuckle. 'You'd better cable the Kremlin. Anyway, I shouldn't be surprised if they slipped their own transmitter in while they were about it.'

'That might not be such a bad arrangement,' Howden said easily. 'At least we'd get through to them. We don't seem to be doing much of a job by other means.'

'No,' the President said quietly, 'I'm afraid we don't.'

There was a sudden silence. Through a partially opened window the sound of traffic on B Street and children's cries from the White House playground, drifted in faintly. From somewhere close by, muted by intervening walls, a clack of typewriter keys could be sensed rather than heard. Subtly, Howden realized, the atmosphere had changed from flippancy to deadly seriousness. Now he asked, 'For the record, Tyler, do you still hold the opinion that open major conflict, within a comparatively short time, has become inevitable?'

'With all my heart and soul,' the President answered, 'I wish that I could say no. I can only tell you – yes.'

'And we're not ready, are we?' It was Arthur Lexington, his cherubic face pensive.

The President leaned forward. Behind him a breeze stirred the curtains and twin flags. 'No, gentlemen,' he said softly, 'we are not ready, and shall not be, until the United States and Canada, acting in the name of freedom and the hope of a better world we cling to, have manned, together, our single border and our common fortress.'

Well, Howden thought, we've come to the point quickly. The eyes of the others upon him, he said matter-of-factly, 'I've given your proposal for an Act of Union a great deal of consideration, Tyler.'

There was a ghost of a smile on the President's face. 'Yes, Jim; I imagined you would.'

'There are many objections,' Howden said.

'When something of this magnitude is involved' – the voice came quietly across the desk – 'it would be surprising if there were not.'

'On the other hand,' Howden declared, 'I may tell you that my senior colleagues and I are aware of substantial advantages in what is proposed, but only if certain considerations are met and specific guarantees given.'

'You talk of considerations and guarantees.' It was Admiral Rapoport, head thrust forward, speaking for the first time. His voice was taut and crisp. 'No doubt you, and the colleagues you refer to, have taken into account that any guarantee, from whatever source, would be useless without survival.'

'Yes,' Arthur Lexington said, 'we've considered that.'

The President interjected quickly, 'A point I'd like us to hold in mind, Jim – you, too, Arthur – is that time is against us. That's the reason I want us to move swiftly. It's also why we must speak plainly, even if we ruffle some feathers in the doing of it.'

Howden smiled grimly. 'There'll be no ruffled feathers, unless they're on your eagle. What do you suggest first?'

'I'd like to cover the ground again, Jim; that's what I'd like to do. Go over what we talked of last week by telephone. Let's be sure we understand each other. Then we'll see which way the compass points from there.'

The Prime Minister glanced at Lexington who gave the slightest of nods. 'Very well,' Howden said. 'I'm agreeable to that. Will you be the one to begin?'