She was with a client, the receptionist said, but she would be right with him. He listened to Muzak.

“Hi,” she said.

“Sorry I’ve been hard to get.”

“Are you okay—”

“You busy?”

“Not really. Had a president from one of the unions in here, and I had to explain why he couldn’t postpone a union election he’s not going to win … . So, how are you?”

“Pushing through the muck.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Yeah, I know. Everybody is.”

“Yeah,” she muttered.

“Well, here we are … talking.”

She didn’t reply. Addis could tell she was considering what to say next.

“If there’s anything I can do.”

He felt a slight shake in his knees. Why was this so god-damn hard? How much time does it take?

“I was kind of hoping you’d say that.”

There was silence on the other end.

“I need a favor,” he continued.

“Okay.” Her voice was tentative. He wanted to hang up. This is dumb, he told himself. But it was the best idea he could concoct. Or was he fooling himself?

“I do need it.”

“Okay, what?”

“I’d rather tell you in person. Besides, in a minute, I’ve got to have cocktails with a bunch of historians and discuss the nature of national tragedies.”

They arranged to meet later. Then Addis called his travel agent and asked her to book two tickets to New Orleans.

“To be billed to the party?” she asked.

“No,” he said, “it’s personal.”

20 - Rosslyn June 26

20

Rosslyn June 26

Julia Lancette did not recognize the phone number. The 456 exchange—which flashed on her caller-identification readout—indicated the call was coming from the White House. She answered with a curt “hello.”

“Ms. Lancette, please,” a male voice said.

“Who’s calling?” she asked.

“Jake Grayton.”

“Hold on.” She punched the hold button. She had seen him at Wenner’s office yesterday. Why would he be calling? She reconnected the call and tried to speak in a slightly different voice.

“This is Julia Lancette.”

“Hi, this is Jake Grayton,” he said. “I hope this doesn’t sound too strange, but Mrs. Novek said I should give you a call. We almost met—but didn’t—in the director’s office. And she thought we might share some interests. So I was wondering—to get to the point—if you’d like to have dinner.”

Damn straightforward, she thought.

“You’re not too busy these days, Mr. Grayton?” she asked.

“Yes, but we all have to eat and I didn’t promise a long dinner. And call me Jake.”

“I don’t know, Jake.”

“We can invite Mrs. Novek to join us.”

Lancette laughed and then silently chided herself for doing so.

“See?” he said. “We’ll have fun.”

“This is not really the time to be having fun, is it?”

“Then we won’t. I give you my word.”