Page 403 of Edge of Eternity (The Century 3)

George said: "The lying bastard, we've got him."

On the tape, Nixon said: "I don't want them to get any ideas we're doing it because our concern is political."

Haldeman said: "Right."

In the room, gathered around the tape player, the assembled lawyers burst out laughing.

*

Maria was at her desk in the Justice Department when George called. "I just heard from our friend," he said. She knew he meant Jasper. He was speaking in code in case the phones were tapped. "The White House press office called the networks and booked air time for the president. Nine o'clock tonight."

It was Thursday, August 8, 1974.

Maria's heart leaped. Could this be the end at last? "Maybe he's going to resign," she said.

"Maybe."

"God, I hope so."

"It's either that or he'll just profess his innocence again."

Maria did not want to be alone when this happened. "Do you want to come over?" she said. "We'll watch it together."

"Yeah, okay."

"I'll make supper."

"Nothing too fattening."

"George Jakes, you're vain."

"Make a salad."

"Come at seven thirty."

"I'll bring the wine."

Maria went out to shop for dinner in the heat of Washington in August. She no longer cared much about her work. She had lost faith in the Justice Department. If Nixon resigned today, she would start looking for another job. She still wanted to be in government service: only the government had the muscle to make the world a better place. But she was sick of crime and the excuses of criminals. She wanted a change. She thought she might try for the State Department.

She bought salad, but she also got some pasta and Parmesan cheese and olives. George had refined tastes, and he was getting worse as he grew into middle age. But he certainly was not fat. Maria herself was not fat but, on the other hand, she was not thin. As she approached forty she was just getting, well, more like her mother, especially around the hips.

She left for the day a few minutes before five. A crowd had gathered outside the White House. They were chanting, "Jail to the Chief," a pun on the anthem "Hail to the Chief."

Maria caught the bus to Georgetown.

As her salary had improved over the years she had moved apartments, always to a larger place in the same neighborhood. She had got rid of all but one of the photos of President Kennedy during her last move. Her current place had a comfortable feel. Where George had always had rectilinear modern furniture and plain decor, Maria liked patterned fabrics and curved lines and lots of cushions.

Her gray cat Loopy came to greet her, as always, and rubbed her head against Maria's leg. Julius, the boy cat, was more aloof: he would show up later.

She set the table and washed the salad and grated the Parmesan cheese. Then she took a shower and put on a cotton summer dress in her favorite shade, turquoise. She thought about putting on lipstick and decided not to.

The evening news on TV was mostly speculation. Nixon had had a meeting with Vice President Gerald Ford, who might be president tomorrow. Press secretary Ziegler had announced to the White House reporters that the president would address the nation at nine, then had left the press briefing room without answering questions on what he would speak about.

George arrived at seven thirty, wearing slacks and loafers and a blue chambray shirt open at the neck. Maria tossed the salad and put the pasta in boiling water while he opened a bottle of Chianti.

Her bedroom door was open, and George looked inside. "No shrine," he said.

"I threw away most of the photographs."

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