All the same, she felt sad about turning down the thrilling prospect that had been so briefly held out to her.

Dave said: “What did you say, a moment ago, about the Bundestag?”

“Nothing,” Rebecca said. “Just something else I was thinking of doing. But I’ll come with you to San Francisco. Of course I will.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

Rebecca stood up. “I’ll pack a bag,” she said.

CHAPTER FIFTY

Jasper Murray was depressed. President Nixon—liar, cheat, and crook—was reelected by a huge majority. He won forty-nine states. George McGovern, one of the most unsuccessful candidates in American history, got only Massachusetts and the District of Columbia.

Worse, as new revelations about Watergate scandalized the liberal intelligentsia, Nixon’s popularity remained strong. Five months after the election, in April 1973, the president’s approval rating stood at 60–33.

“What do we have to do?” Jasper said frustratedly to anyone who would listen. The media, led by The Washington Post, revealed one presidential crime after another as Nixon scrambled desperately to cover up his involvement in a break-in. One of the Watergate burglars had written a letter, which the judge read out in court, complaining that the defendants had been subjected to political pressure to plead guilty and remain silent. If this was true, it meant the president was trying to pervert the course of justice. But voters seemed not to care.

Jasper was in the White House briefing room on Tuesday, April 17, when the tide turned.

The room had a slightly raised stage at one end. A lectern stood in front of a backdrop curtain that was colored a television-friendly shade of blue-gray. There were never enough chairs, and some reporters sat on the tan carpet while cameramen jostled for space.

The White House had announced that the president would make a brief statement but take no questions. The reporters had assembled at three o’clock. It was now half past four and nothing had happened.

Nixon appeared at four forty-two. Jasper noticed that his hands seemed to be shaking. Nixon announced the resolution of a dispute between the White House and Sam Ervin, chair of the Senate committee that was investigating Watergate. White House staff would now be allowed to testify to the Ervin Committee, although they might refuse to answer any question. It was not much of a concession, Jasper thought. But surely an innocent president would not even be having this argument.

Then Nixon said: “No individual holding, in the past or present, a position of major importance in the administration should be given immunity from prosecution.”

Jasper frowned. What did this mean? Someone must have been demanding immunity, someone close to Nixon. Now Nixon was publicly refusing it. He was hanging someone out to dry. But who?

“I condemn any attempts to cover up, no matter who is involved,” said the president, who had tried to shut down the FBI investigation; and then he left the room.

Press secretary Ron Ziegler mounted the podium to a storm of questions. Jasper did not ask any. He was intrigued by the statement about immunity.