Behind the desk, his boss sighed. ‘Enough, Jed. Let him continue. Go on, Paul.’

‘Eliminating government agencies and departments which are not needed by our much reduced population will allow us to write off a great deal of the inter-agency governmental debt. This should allow us to stop the worst of the fiscal haemorrhaging and focus on servicing the foreign debt.’ Secretary McAuley shook his head as he moved on to the next point. ‘In the meantime, we remain at an impasse with Fort Hood over the issue of state taxes levied on the oil industry down in Texas, and the related issue of Governor Blackstone signing extractive leases with foreign corporations but without reference to us. Under the Federal–State Revenues Act of 2005, the Blackstone administration is supposed to remit –’

‘Yeah, yeah, we know,’ Kipper complained. ‘Believe me, Paul, we know all about it. Bottom line – how much is Blackstone stealing?’

He wasn’t looking at the Treasury Secretary as he asked the question. He was hunched over the desk, rubbing his eyeballs, as though trying to massage away a gathering headache. Or possibly a stroke.

‘Twelve billion New American dollars in the last three quarters, Mr President.’

It was Kip’s turn to shake his head. ‘Son of a bitch. You know, we wouldn’t need a line of credit, or at least not one as big as we have, if that asshole would just play by the rules we both agreed to.’

Jed put aside the remains of the crab and avocado sandwich he’d been eating. In some ways, he thought, and not for the first time, their troubles were not that much different from the ones that faced the country when Washington became president, back in 1789. They had a huge debt, a wide-open frontier, and no shortage of foreign powers hoping for their failure. And they didn’t lack for internal strife or factionalism either.

Blackstone, Culver realised, was the difference. Even if George Washington were available to advise Kipper, he probably would’ve counselled caution. It was one thing to send an army to put down an uprising of farmers during the Whiskey Rebellion of the 1790s, quite another thing entirely to send a broken military up against a well-armed, funded and motivated separatist.

Secretary McAuley, reluctant as always to comment on a purely political matter, remained silent. Ritchie and Sarah Humboldt both looked to the Chief of Staff, as though expecting him to say something.

Jed felt like rubbing his own eyes, so tired and exasperated was he with the never-ending perdition of having to deal with Jackson Blackstone. Or rather, of having to deal with him while the President insisted on tying one hand behind his back. The best solution would be for Blackstone to fall out of his executive helicopter while touring the ruins of Dallas-Fort Worth, he thought. Newton could take care of the details.

He took a deep breath. They couldn’t get that lucky.