George nudged Maria, knowing she would be bristling at that piece of sanctified sexism.

George’s mother adored Maria. George suspected that Jacky thought she might have been like Maria, if she had been born a generation later. She might have had a good education and a high-powered job and a black dress with a row of pearls.

During the prayers George’s thoughts wandered to Verena. She had disappeared into the Black Panthers. He would have liked to believe that she was responsible for the more humane side of their mission, such as cooking free breakfasts for inner-city schoolchildren whose mothers spent the early mornings cleaning white people’s offices. But, knowing Verena, she might just as easily be robbing banks.

The pastor closed the meeting with another long prayer. As soon as he said amen, the members of the congregation turned to one another and began to chat. The hum of their conversations was loud, and George felt he could talk to Maria without fear of being overheard.

Maria said immediately: “They’re going to tap Jasper Murray’s home phone. One of Ehrlichman’s boys came over from the White House.”

“Obviously Jasper’s last TV show triggered this.”

“You bet your socks.”

“And it’s not really Jasper they’re after.”

“I know. It’s the person who’s giving him information. It’s me.”

“I’ll see Jasper tonight and warn him to be careful what he says on his home phone.”

“Thanks.” She looked around. “We’re not as unobtrusive as I’d hoped.”

“Why not?”

“We’re too well dressed. We obviously don’t belong here.”

“And my secretary now thinks I’m born again. Let’s get out of here.”

“We can’t leave together. You go first.”

George left the little church and drove back toward the White House.

Maria was not the only insider leaking to the press, he reflected: there were many. George figured that the president’s casual disregard of the law had shocked some government workers into breaking a lifelong discretion. Nixon’s criminality was particularly horrifying in a president who had campaigned on a law-and-order ticket. George felt as if the American people were victims of a gigantic hoax.

George tried to think where would be the best place to meet Jasper. Last time he had simply gone to the office of This Day. Doing that once might not have been dangerous, but he should avoid a repeat visit. He did not want to be seen with Jasper too often by Washington insiders. On the other hand, their meeting had to seem casual, not furtive, just in case they were spotted.

He drove to the parking garage nearest to Jasper’s office. A block of spaces on the third floor was reserved for the staff of This Day. George parked nearby and went to a pay phone.

Jasper was at his desk.

George did not give his name. “It’s Friday night,” he said without preamble. “When were you thinking of leaving the office?”

“Soon.”

“Now would be good.”

“Okay.”

George hung up.

A few minutes later Jasper came out of the elevator, a big man with a mane of fair hair, carrying a raincoat. He walked to his vehicle, a bronze Lincoln Continental with a black fabric roof.