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Page 277
rarified atmosphere, Her life with Jacob Neville had not prepared her for meetings with presidents and prime ministers. It had always been Jake's feeling that important politicians were chauvinists, that they felt more at ease dealing with men. Therefore, on their photographic assignments involving heads of state, Anna had always been relegated to the role of silent assistant.
"Your talent is nature photography," Jake had said. "Mine is sons of bitches. Be satisfied." As she remembered his condescension now, she felt anger at her passivity. She had been conditioned to survive among strong, opinionated men, and part of survival in such circumstances was stoic endurance of opinions with which she disagreed.
But that was the past, and in many ways it was receding from her consciousness. Now that she had time to consider it, both her father and her husband had behaved much like men in tribes wherein woman's menstruation was considered unclean, and the woman must be cast out until she was healed.
Jamison was pressing her again. "First of all, Mrs. Neville," he said, "I must entreat you to keep ali of these conversationswith all of us here, and with the President and Prime Ministertotally confidential. Otherwise we could all find ourselves in a very bad situation." He waited expectantly.
"I thought the situation was already very bad, Mr. Jamison," Anna said.
"It is, Mrs. Neville, and getting more so by the hour. President Cherny, if you'll forgive me, is up to his ass in alligators right now. I'll let General Bolton tell you what we know for certain. General?"
General Bolton, who seemed far too young for his rank, flashed her a bright white smile and said, "Let's make ourselves comfortable over here, until the President is ready to see Mrs. Neville." He led the way to an alcove with couches, chairs, and a magnificent Louis XV table.
Anna's fingers itched to caress the tabletop. The elegance of the furnishings of the White House made her think of the

 
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