Greg said: “Washington isn’t the Deep South.”

“It isn’t the North, either,” said George. “So there’s no telling what will happen.”

Jasper persisted with his questions. “And if there is a riot?”

Greg answered him. “There are four thousand troops stationed in the suburbs, and fifteen thousand paratroopers close by in North Carolina. Washington hospitals have canceled all non-urgent surgery to make room for the wounded.”

“Blimey,” said Jasper. “You’re serious.”

George frowned. These precautions were not public knowledge. Greg had been briefed, as a senator; but he should not have told Jasper.

Verena appeared and came to their table. All three men stood up. She spoke to Greg. “Good morning, Senator. Good to see you again.”

Greg introduced her to Jasper, whose eyes were popping out. Verena had that effect on white and black men. “Verena works for Martin Luther King,” Greg said.

Jasper turned a hundred-watt smile on Verena. “Could you get me an interview with him?”

George snapped: “Why?”

“I’m a student journalist. Didn’t I mention that?”

“No, you did not,” George said with irritation.

“I’m sorry.”

Verena was not immune to Jasper’s charm. “I’m so sorry,” she said with a rueful smile. “An interview with the Reverend Dr. King is out of the question today.”

George was annoyed. Greg should have warned him that Jasper was a journalist. Last time George talked to a reporter he had embarrassed Bobby Kennedy. He hoped he had not said anything indiscreet today.

Verena turned to George, and her tone changed to annoyance. “I just talked to Charlton Heston. FBI agents are phoning our celebrity supporters this morning, telling them to stay in their hotel rooms for the day because there’s going to be violence.”

George made a disgusted noise. “The FBI is worried, not that the march will be violent, but that it will be a success.”

Verena was not satisfied with that. “Can’t you stop them trying to sabotage the whole event?”

“I’ll speak to Bobby, but I don’t think he’ll want to cross swords with J. Edgar Hoover on something so minor.” George touched Greg’s arm. “Verena and I have to talk. Excuse us, please.”

Verena said: “My table is over there.”

They crossed the room. George forgot about the sneaky Jasper Murray. As they sat down, he said to Verena: “What’s the situation?”

She leaned across the table and spoke in a low voice, but she was bursting with excitement. “It’s going to be bigger than we thought,” she said, her eyes shining. “A hundred thousand people is an underestimate.”

“How do you know?”

“Every scheduled bus, train, and plane to Washington today is full,” she said. “At least twenty chartered trains arrived this morning. At Union Station you can’t hear yourself think for the people singing ‘We Shall Not Be Moved.’ Special buses are coming through the Baltimore tunnel at the rate of one hundred per hour. My father chartered a plane from Los Angeles for all the movie stars. Marlon Brando is here, and James Garner. CBS is broadcasting the whole thing live.”