At that moment, however, he was much more concerned about the other disaster that was taking place in the president’s private office next door, and he was anxious to get back to calm the chief executive and salvage what was left of his career.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he continued, “I think you understand that, as chief of staff, I really need to be with the president at this moment, so I would like to defer to Mr. Augustus, our secretary of defense, to direct the remainder of this meeting and to make sure that our original directives are carried out. Does that—”

“Go on, Vince,” someone chimed in.

“Hey, we understand, Vince. You go ahead,” offered another.

“Thank you,” he replied stiffly. “Please excuse me. The president needs my help.”

He withdrew before anyone could ask embarrassing questions. The secretary of defense stood up to continue the deliberations. Vince thought, At last the relief effort is in good hands.

WHEN VINCE ENTERED the Oval Office, President Ted Rust was sitting on a couch, sobbing, with his head in his hands. Vince was furious at what they had just been through. There was no doubt in his mind that the story of the president’s showing up stumbling, confused, and drunk at his first cabinet meeting would be all over Washington within minutes after the cabinet adjourned. He had been around long enough to know that there were no secrets in this town.

He couldn’t cover up for Ted Rust anymore. There was every possibility that Rust had condemned his own presidency to failure, and Vince hated him for that. The chief of staff walked over to the sobbing, drunken president and snarled, “You sniveling, cowardly drunk.” Then he drew back his right arm and delivered a full force slap across the president’s face.

The blow had the desired effect. It served to snap Ted Rust out of his maudlin reverie. But what he did next shocked them both. He rose to full height, looked down at his chief of staff, and roared, “I am president of the United States of America! No one can talk to me like that! You cannot strike me! No one can do that. Do you hear me?”

Caught completely off guard by the president’s reaction, Vince stumbled backward.

“I don’t need you around here,” Rust continued, gesturing wildly. “I don’t want you, and I don’t need you. Do you hear me, Vincent D’Agostino? So, clean out your desk and get out of here. You—are—fired!”

Dazed, Vince shook his head. Then, after the briefest pause, he began to laugh. “Sure thing, Mr. President. No problem. I’m just leaving,” he shot back. “But, please understand, I won’t be back. It’s all yours now, Mr. President, and you’ve bloody well earned it. Ted Rust’s America. And with you in charge, may God save this venerable nation!”

Having fired his final salvo, he strode out of the office, slammed the door, and walked away. He went to his own office and, pausing briefly at his reception area, told his secretary what had happened, and asked her to pack up his personal effects and send them to his house.