“You can use the phone up here, if you like. I promise I won’t listen.”

“Thanks,” he said and started for the door.

“It’s up to you,” she muttered.

From the pay phone in the alcove off the lobby, he returned McGreer’s call. The chief of staff wanted to know when Addis would be back. “Getting crazy here,” McGreer said.

Ham Kelly was lining up commitments for Mumfries across the nation. The Post was running an editorial tomorrow calling on Margaret to respond to the whispers she might challenge Mumfries for the nomination. A rumor was flying about that Pratt was going to select as his running mate Howard Rivers, the only African American congressman in Pratt’s party and a former basketball star. Senators were inquiring if the White House still wanted to go ahead with the China treaty hearings, which had been scheduled for the week after the convention.

Shit, the body’s not even … and the corporate lobbies can’t wait.

Addis knew what the pro-treaty senators—and the corporate lobbyists urging them to call the White House—were thinking. Before Hanover had decided to push for the China treaty, Margaret had been lobbied, privately, by unions, environmental groups, and human rights outfits, all urging her to oppose the accord. She was sympathetic to their concerns, but she refused to say anything in public against the treaty while her husband was considering it. Once Hanover resolved to move forward with the treaty, she repeated the same arguments for the treaty that he offered. If the White House was about to split into two camps—Mumfries versus Margaret—might the treaty foes get another chance at enlisting Margaret? The K-Street crowd was concerned.

McGreer had more to report. House Majority Leader Wynn Gravitt had proposed that the House form a committee to oversee the assassination commission. Kelly had ordered the party to stop payments to Dan Carey and had brought in another pollster. An item in a trade newsletter reported that Mike Finn had been asked by the life insurance lobby to leave the White House and become president of its trade association, at $300,000 a year. And Margaret had scheduled a network interview for later in the week without informing the White House communications office.

“But you come home when you’re fucking ready,” McGreer said.

Addis promised to be back the following afternoon. He attempted to return a call from M. T. O’Connor, but she was not in her office. He ripped in half a message from Evan Hynes-Pierce. The last message was from Harris Griffith’s attorney. Before dialing, he practiced saying the lawyer’s name.

“Mikolajczyk,” he answered. “Talk to me.”

“It’s Addis.”

“Good, good. It’s your lucky day. I spoke to Harris. Three weeks I hear squat from him. I have to put up with his gun-crazy wife. Today, he calls.”

“Is he in town?”