“Well, I have faith that further excavation will unearth additional congruences,” Hynes-Pierce said. “And, then, we can let the citizenry decide between coincidence and conspiracy. Truth will out.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Thought I could help you.”

“Help me?”

“Or a friend. This information will reach the public. But the timing of that, and, thus, its impact, will be determined by those far above my lofty quarters. Or pay grade, as you Americans say. My employer would prefer, at the moment, to see a narrow reaction—that is, for it not to be publicly relevant to the great events of the day.”

Addis began to understand. The owner of Hynes-Pierce’s paper did not want Margaret in the race. But was the publisher hoping she would stay out if she knew such an article awaited her entrance?

“Shouldn’t he be drooling for a catfight between Mumfries and Margaret?” Addis said. “It’s the one thing that might give Pratt a chance.”

“Seems he’s comfortable with the status quo. A Mumfries presidency would be … predictable. And he is not certain that Pratt, under any circumstances, could beat the wife of a slain leader.”

And how many more millions will his conglomerate and its high-tech firms make if the China treaty goes through? Sure, the owner of Hynes-Pierce’s rag might be a right-winger. But there’s conservative, then there’s conservative. Pratt keeps saying you shouldn’t do business with folks who lock up Christians. And that’s not good for business.

“It’s China, the damn treaty, isn’t it?”

“Not my privilege to know.”

“But why go through this little dance? Go ahead and publish it. Wouldn’t that get him what he wants: Margaret out of the race?”

“I suppose the question is, will an ancient piece of history be deemed terribly significant by an electorate sympathetic to a grieving widow?”

Addis calculated quickly: The publisher could run the story and hope it sparked enough bad publicity to persuade Margaret not to run. But if it failed to do so, she would have weathered a storm, and he’d be without ammunition for further use. No, the smarter play was to threaten publication first—attempt to intimidate her out of the race—and, if that did not work, then publish the piece at an opportune moment.

Hynes-Pierce placed a cigarette in his mouth and took a matchbook out of his pocket.

“You enjoy being a rich man’s messenger boy?” Addis asked. “Guess it’s a night off for the seeker of truth.”

“The story will run. I’m still dotting i’s, crossing t’s, for I want this piece to be incontrovertible. But I know from whence comes my living, and I can live with that. I am doing my master a favor. I see the situation very clearly. I think that’s a good way to live. It’s beneficial for the soul.”