Culver had to hand it to Kip. He really knew how to tell a guy what he wanted to hear while he let him down at the same time. Of course, it was always possible that he agreed with Cesky’s crazy flat-tax idea – in which case, it was probably a good thing he assumed it would splatter when tossed against the proverbial wall. Oh, if only funding a crippled government at the end of the world was as simple as passing the hat round, thought Jed. Intending to move his boss through the room, he was already scanning the crowd looking for the next donor when Cesky surprised him.

‘You know, Kip,’ the big man said, feeling perfectly comfortable addressing the President as though he was speaking to some beer buddy, ‘if you’d just make that bastard down in Texas pay his way, you could probably afford a decent tax package. Okay, maybe not my idea. I know people are always gonna be suspicious of a guy with too much money saying he should pay less tax, but as long as that asshole is holding out on the rest of the country, you can’t get nothing done. That’s why I don’t push back too hard when my invoices don’t get paid right away by the Treasury. Because I know that rat fuck is holding out on you!’

The Secret Service were watching again, but Kip had switched from polite interest to genuine engagement with the construction magnate. Cesky had found one of the President’s hot-button issues. He took a gulp from the champagne flute full of apple juice as if he’d forgotten it wasn’t a real drink.

‘I fucking tell you, Henry, I wish I had a few more guys like you working for me,’ said Kipper. ‘This is exactly what I’ve been saying for over a year. Do you know how many of my problems would go away if that guy would just pay his bills?’

And just like that, the energy between them shifted and they suddenly looked like old beer buddies after all, intent on saving the world with a couple of six-packs and a bunch of f-bombs. But Jed Culver didn’t like the way this was going. He could almost see Kip agreeing to road-trip down to Texas in Cesky’s pick-up, with a keg on the seat between them and an ass-kicking for Governor Blackstone in the offing. Not that the idea didn’t appeal, on a deeply undergraduate level, but a large part of his job involved protecting Kip from his often naïve enthusiasm.