"The CIA gives the Middle East another two years before their fields scrape bottom. That will leave the world's known oil supply at less than fifty percent of demand. The Russians are hoarding their depleted reserves, and the Mexican offshore bonanza fell short of expectations. And as for our own oil deposits ..."
"I've seen the figures," replied the President. "The hectic exploration several years ago brought in a few small fields at best."
Mercier surveyed the interior of a folder. "Solar radiation, windmills, electric autos, they're partial solutions of a sort. Unfortunately, their technology is at about the same state as television during the nineteen forties."
"A pity the synthetic fuel programs got off to such a slow start.
"The earliest target date before the oil-shale refineries can take up the slack is four years away. In the meantime, American transportation is up the polluted creek without locomotion."
The President cracked a faint smile at Mercier's rare display of dry humor. "Surely there is some hope on the horizon."
"There's James Bay."
"The Canadian power project?"
Mercier nodded and reeled off the statistics. "Eighteen dams, twelve powerhouses, a work force of nearly ninety thousand people, and the re channeling of two rivers the size of the Colorado. And, as the Canadian government literature states, the largest and most expensive hydroelectric project in the history of man."
"Who operates it?"
"Quebec Hydro, the provincial power authority. They began work on the project in nineteen seventy-four. The price tag has been pretty hefty. Twenty-six billion dollars, the major share coming from New York money houses."
"What's the output?"
"Over a hundred million kilowatts, with double that coming in the next twenty years."
"How much flows across our borders?"
"Enough to light fifteen states."
The President's face tensed. "I don't like being so heavily dependent on Quebec for electricity. I'd feel more secure if our nation's power came from our own nuclear plants."
Mercier shook his head. "The sad fact is our nuclear facilities provide less than a third of our requirements."
"As usual we dragged our feet," the President said wearily.
"The lag was partly due to escalating construction costs and expensive modifications," Mercier agreed. "Partly because the demands on uranium have put it in short supply. And then, of course, there were the environmentalists."
The President sat in thoughtful silence.
"We banked on endless reserves that do not exist," Mercier continued. "And while our country consumed itself into a corner, the neighbors to the north went ahead and did something about it. We had no option but to tap their source."
"Are their prices in line?"
Mercier nodded. "The Canadians, bless their souls, have kept rates on a par with our own power companies."
"A glimmer of sunshine after all."
"There's a catch."
The President sighed.
"We have to face the unpleasant fact," Mercier went on, "that Quebec expects to pass a referendum for full independence by summer."
"Prime Minister Sarveux has slammed the door on the Quebec separatists before. You don't think he can do it again?"
"No, sir, I don't. Our intelligence sources claim that Premier Guerrier of the Parti quebecois has the votes to make it stick next time around."
"They'll pay a high price to break away from Canada," the President said. "Their economy is alre+dy in chaos."
"Their strategy is to rely on the United States to prop up their government."
"And if we don't?"
"They can either raise electrical rates to an outrageous level or pull the plug," Mercier answered.
"Guerrier would be a fool to shut off our power. He knows we'd retaliate with massive economic sanctions."
Mercier stared bleakly at the President. "Might take weeks, even months before the Quebeckers felt the pinch. In the meantime our industrial heartland would be paralyzed."
"You paint a bleak picture."
"That's only the background scene. You're familiar, of course, with the FQS."
The President winced. The so-called Free Quebec Society was an underground terrorist movement that had assassinated several Canadian officials. "What about them?"
"A recent CIA report claims they're Moscow-oriented. if they somehow gained control of the government, we'd have another Cuba on our hands."
"Another Cuba," the President repeated in an expressionless tone.
"One with the capacity to force America to its knees."
The President rose from his chair and walked to the window, staring at the sleet building on the White House grounds. He was silent for nearly half a minute. Finally he said, "We cannot afford a power play by Quebec. Especially in the months ahead." He turned and faced Mercier, his eyes grieved. "This country is broke and up to its ears in hock, Alan, and just between you and me and these walls, it's only a matter of a few years before we have no choice but to cut the stalling and declare national bankruptcy."
Mercier sagged into his chair. For a heavy man he appeared curiously hunched and shrunken. "I'd hate to see that occur during your administration, Mr. President."
The President shrugged resignedly. "From Franklin Roosevelt on, every chief executive has played a game of tag, pinning a multiplying financial burden on the office of his successor. Well the game is about to be called, and I'm it. If we lost electrical power to our northeastern states for twenty days or longer, the repercussions would be tragic. My deadline for the announcement of a new deflated currency would have to be drastically reduced. I need time, Alan, time to prepare the public and the business community for the ax. Time to make the transition to a new money standard as painless as possible. Time for our shale refineries to halt our dependence on foreign oil.
"How can we restrain Quebec from doing anything foolish?"
"I don't know. Our choices are limited."
"There are two options when all else fails," Mercier said, a thin line of tension forming around his mouth. "Two options as old as time to save an economy from sinking down the drain. One is to pray for a miracle."
"And the second?"
"Provoke a war."
At precisely 2:30 in the afternoon, Mercier entered the Forrestal Building on Independence Avenue and took the elevator to the seventh floor. Without fanfare he was ushered into the plush office of Ronald Klein, the secretary of energy.