“There’s a national crisis to manage, and we’d better get moving.” Al Augustus stood, and James Wong followed. “I’ll see you at the cabinet meeting,” Al said. “And, Jimmy,” he added as he took his friend’s hand, “may God help us to help America.”

TED RUST WAS A LATE RISER, but this morning he was dressed and coming downstairs for breakfast at 8:30. He had entrusted his headache to a couple of extra-strength painkillers and was looking forward to strong, black coffee and his customary large glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice.

Valery met him at the foot of the stairs. “I’ve got good news,” she said cheerily. “I’ve found the perfect replacement for Vince D’Agostino.”

“What are you talking about?” he replied warily. “Why would I want a replacement for Vince?”

Valery stared incredulously, then realized that the previous night must have been another blackout for her besotted husband. “Ted, I don’t want to be the first to tell you, but you fired Vince last night. Remember? Vince is gone. History.”

“Okay, I remember vaguely,” he said as he pushed by her. “I’ve got to get some coffee. Talk to me in the dining room.”

He helped himself to coffee and a muffin from the sideboard, then sat down at the elegant mahogany table. After taking several sips of coffee, he asked, “What do you mean, you’ve found a replacement?”

“Just the right man for you, Ted,” she said. “He’s fabulous. Just the kind of person we’ve needed. He’ll make you look great.”

“I’m listening,” Ted mumbled. “Tell me more.”

“He grew up in San Francisco, earned a law degree at Yale, took a turn at Covington and Burling, then went to work for the State Department in the Far East. He served briefly in Brussels before being promoted to chargé d’affaires at our embassy in New Delhi. He’s been a policy analyst, a contributor to Foreign Policy Review, and, from what I hear, he is extremely well-connected in this town.”

The president took a bite of his bran muffin. “Tell him I’ll see him at the White House sometime this morning.”

“I can do better than that,” Valery responded with a sly smile. “He is here right now. I’ll bring him in.”

Before Ted Rust could object, he found himself greeting a wiry, handsome, impeccably tailored young man in his late thirties. In a deferential tone that bordered on the obsequious, the young man spoke. “Mr. President, I cannot express to you the honor I feel at this meeting. My name is Benjamin Benares. The first lady has indicated her desire that I offer myself for your service. I have prepared a detailed résumé, along with a dossier containing recommendations from people whom you know personally.”