Howden got up from the chair facing the President's, took a turn away, then back. 'Raw materials,' he announced, 'Canada will control withdrawal permits and we want a guarantee against plundering. There's to be no bonanza for Americans -taking everything out for processing elsewhere.'

Admiral Rapoport said sharply, 'You've been ready enough to sell your raw resources in the past – if the price was high.'

'That's the past,' Howden snapped. 'We're discussing the future.' He was beginning to understand why dislike of the presidential assistant was so widespread.

'Never mind,' the President interceded. 'There should be more secondary manufacturing on the spot and it will help both countries. Next!'

'Defence contracts and foreign-aid buying,' Howden said. 'Canada will want some major manufacturing – aircraft and missiles, not just screws and bolts.'

The President sighed. 'There'll be hell to pay from our own lobbies. But somehow we'll do it.' More notes.

'I'll want one of my own cabinet ministers here in the White House,' Howden said. He had seated himself again. 'Someone who can be close to you to interpret both our points of view.'

'I'd planned to offer you something of the kind,' the President observed. 'What else do you have?'

'Wheat!' the Prime Minister announced. 'Your own exports and giveaways have taken over what were once our markets. What's more, Canada can't compete with production subsidized on your scale.'

The President glanced at Admiral Rapoport who thought briefly, then stated, 'We could give a no-interference guarantee, I suppose, affecting Canadian commercial sales, and ensure that the Canadian surplus – up to last year's figures – is sold first.'

'Well?' The President cocked a quizzical eyebrow at Howden.

The Prime Minister took his time about answering. Then he said carefully, 'I'd prefer to accept the first part of the deal and leave the second to negotiation. If your production increases, so should ours, with matching guarantees.'

With a trace of coolness the President asked, 'Aren't you pressing a little, Jim?'

'I don't think so.' Howden met the other's eyes directly. He had no intention of conceding yet. Besides, his biggest demand was still to come.

There was a pause, then the President nodded. 'Very well -negotiation.'

They continued to talk – of trade, industry, employment, foreign relations, consular activities, foreign exchange, domestic economics, authority of Canadian civil courts over US forces… In each instance the concessions the Prime Minister sought were granted, sometimes with minor modifications, in some cases after discussion, but mostly with none. It was not surprising really, Howden thought. Obviously there had been anticipation of most of the things he asked and the President had entered their parley prepared for speed and action.

If times had been ordinary – as much as any time in history is ordinary, James Howden reasoned – the concessions he had already wrested would remove obstacles to Canadian development which previous governments had sought to change for generations. But – he was forced to remind himself – the times were not ordinary or any future certain.

Lunchtime came and went. Absorbed, they had cold roast beef, a salad, and coffee on trays in the presidential office.

For dessert the Prime Minister nibbled on a chocolate bar which he had pocketed before leaving Blair House. It was one of a supply which the Canadian Ambassador had sent around the previous day, the Prime Minister's sweet tooth being known among intimates and friends.

And afterwards there arrived the moment for which James Howden had waited.

He had asked for a map of North America and, during lunch, one had been hung on the wall facing the President's desk. It was a large-scale political map with Canadian territory coloured pink, the United States sepia, and Mexico green. The US-Canadian border – a long black line – ran clear across the centre. Beside the map, a pointer had been propped against the wall.

Now James Howden addressed the President directly. 'As you observed an hour or two ago, Tyler, borders are not immutable. We of Canada – if the Act of Union becomes law in both our countries – are prepared to accept a change of border as a fact of life. The point is: are you?'

The President leaned forward across the desk, his brow furrowed. Tm not sure I follow you, Jim.'

Admiral Rapoport's face was expressionless.

'When the nuclear firing begins,' the Prime Minister said, speaking carefully, 'anything can happen. We may gain victory of a sort; or we may be routed and invaded, in which case no present plan will help. Or, in a short time, we may reach stalemate, with the enemy as reduced and helpless as ourselves.'

The President sighed. 'All our so-called experts tell me we shall virtually destroy each other in a matter of days. God knows how much or little they really, know, but one has to predicate plans on something.'

Howden smiled as a passing thought struck him. 'I know what you mean about experts. My barber has a theory that after a nuclear war the earth will split down the middle and break into pieces. Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't put him in the Defence Department.'

'The real thing that stops us,' Arthur Lexington added, 'is that he's a damn good barber.'

The President laughed. Admiral Rapoport's face creased slightly in what might have been a smile.

Seriously once more, the Prime Minister went on, 'For our present purpose I believe we must consider the postwar situation on the assumption that we will not be defeated.'

The President nodded. 'I agree.'

'In that case,' Howden said, 'it seems to me there are two main possibilities. First, that both our governments – Canada and the US – may have ceased to function entirely, so that law and order are non-existent. In that event, nothing we say or do here can be of usefulness at that time; and I suppose, in any case, none of us in this room would be around as observers.'

How casually we talk of it all, he thought: life and death; survival and annihilation; the candle burning, the candle snuffed. And yet in our hearts we never really accept the truth. Always we assume that something, somehow, will impede the ultimate ending.

The President had risen silently from behind the desk. Turning his back to the others, he drew aside a curtain so that he was looking out across the White House lawn. The sun had gone in, Howden noticed; grey stratus cloud was filling the sky. Without turning the President intoned, 'You said two possibilities, Jim.'

'Yes,' Howden assented. 'The second possibility is the one I believe to be more likely.' The President left the window, returning to his chair. His face, Howden thought, seemed warier than before.

Admiral Rapoport inquired, 'What about your second point?' His tone said: Get on with it!

'It is the possibility,' Howden said evenly, 'that both our governments will survive to some extent, but that Canada, by reason of our closeness to the enemy, will have taken the severer blow.'

The President said softly, 'Jim, I swear to you before God that we shall do the best we can… before and afterwards.'

'I know,' Howden said, 'and it's the "afterwards" I'm considering. If there's a future for Canada, you must give us the key.'

'Key?'

'Alaska,' James Howden said quietly. 'Alaska is the key.'

He was conscious of the rhythm of his own breathing, aware from outside of a sudden minuet of melding sounds: the muted, distant note of an automobile horn; a patter of first raindrops; a bird's soft chirruping. Arthur Lexington, he reasoned inconsequentially, could name what breed of bird it was… Arthur Lexington, ornithologist… The Right Honourable Arthur Edward Lexington, PC, MA, LLD, Secretary of State for External Affairs, his command on each Canadian passport: 'In the name of Her Majesty the Queen… allow the bearer to pass freely without let or hindrance… afford assistance and protection.' Arthur Lexington… now poker faced, challenging with himself, James Howden, the might and union of the United States.