Valery was pleased by the gentleman’s manner and his exotic charm. “Exactly, my friend,” she said. “I’m so pleased that you have grasped the urgency of the situation so quickly. It may not be a simple matter to find the person I have in mind, someone who can help—how did you say it?—direct America and her allies into a closer union during this time of crisis. But your gifts are legendary, Mr. Haddad. I know I can count on you.”

Tauriq Haddad rose, looked into her eyes momentarily, then kissed Valery’s hand. “My dear first lady,” he effused, “I assure you that I will have the perfect man for you by nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Not one minute later.” After bowing ever so slightly, he turned quickly on his heel and was gone.

Thirty minutes later, in the luxurious study of his elegant townhouse on Kalorama Road, Haddad picked up the handset to an encrypted satellite telephone and dialed a number in Antwerp.

“Panchal,” he said, “sorry to wake you. Get your people ready. Tonight the gods have given America into our hands.”

AFTER LEAVING THE CABINET ROOM, Al Augustus went to find the president. It was morning in Asia, which meant that the Japanese, Koreans, Taiwanese, Filipinos, Chinese, Vietnamese, Indonesians, and every official in every other Southeast Asian nation had viewed the California disaster and were in various stages of panic. All those nations customarily looked to the United States for leadership, yet none was forthcoming. Every Asian leader had been frantically calling the White House, but they all received the same stock answer: “The president of the United States is personally directing the relief effort and cannot speak to you at this moment. He will return your call at the first opportunity.”

The secretary of defense knew that it was crucial to share data with the Asian allies in order to save lives. The duty officer informed the secretary of defense that the president had left some time ago for his residence.

Al Augustus walked briskly from the Oval Office down the hall, through the reception area, and then turned left toward the office of the chief of staff. As he entered the outer office, the secretary motioned for him to go on into Vince’s private office. Once inside, he found Vince sitting alone, watching a small wall-mounted TV set, as he had for the past two hours.

“Vince, what is going on? The president’s gone home, and you’re hiding in here watching TV.”

Vince turned slowly. “He fired me. I’m out.”

Al was shocked. “When did he fire you? When you followed him out of the room?”

“You’ve got it.”

“Why, for heaven’s sake? He depended on you. He couldn’t even open his mouth without you!”

“I got mad and slapped him. So he slapped back.”

“You can’t be serious.”