“What the fuck’s going on here? We’re all on the same fucking team. It’s fucking obvious. Ken, put out the god-damn press statement and note that President Mumfries has called Mrs. Dunne and told her that all the fucking available resources will be be made fucking available immediately to catch the fuckers. Alma’s probably at the hospital. Send Sally over there to be with her. If not tonight, then first thing tomorrow. Jake should make sure there’s a liaison between the fucking D.C. cops and the Bureau. Everyone fucking agree with this?”

They all turned toward Kelly. Using a handkerchief, Kelly wiped sweat off the back of his neck.

He’s going to be great on television, Addis said to himself.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Kelly said.

“Good,” McGreer said. “Let’s fucking go.”

McGreer stood up, and Kelly followed.

“What a way to head into the convention,” Kelly mumbled.

On the way to his office, where Lancette was waiting, Addis was stopped twice by Secret Service agents who asked what he knew about the attack on Dunne. Just what everybody else does, he said.

I don’t like lying, so stop asking me. Please.

“Nick.”

O’Connor was in the hallway with Lem Jordan.

“Do we know anything yet?” she asked.

“No,” he said.

Addis waited a moment for Jordan to say something. But he just stood there looking tired.

“What are you doing?” Addis asked O’Connor.

“Came over from Blair House to pick up some stuff.” She was carrying several files. “They wouldn’t let us in on what’s happening with Clarence.”

“Not surprising,” Addis said.

“Hear anything from your friend, Hynes-Pierce?”

“Not today. I’m sure he’s creeping about. Margaret hasn’t changed her mind?”

“Anyone been saying anything about the story on Mumfries and Katie?”

“Not to me,” Addis replied.

“I was told the press office hasn’t heard back from the Express.”

“So maybe there’s a truce,” Addis said with a smile. “Hear anything along those lines, M. T.?”

She shook her head. Jordan wasn’t talking. His hands were in his pocket.

“You okay, Lem?” Addis asked.

“Yeah, s-s-sure.”

“He just got back from New Orleans,” O’Connor said.

“How’s your mom?” Addis asked.

“S-she’s al-r-r-right,” Jordan replied. “Kind of a f-f-fal-fal—”

“False alarm,” O’Connor said.

“Good,” Addis said.

“We have to go,” O’Connor said.

“Before Kelly sees you?”

She ignored his comment.

“L-l-let’s go,” Jordan said.

“Okay, Lem.” She took a step toward Addis. “Call me if you hear anything about Clarence. Please.”

“Sure, M. T. Full disclosure.”

Addis watched as O’Connor and Jordan headed out. An odd couple, he thought. She walked as if she were a marionette that barely touched the ground. He plowed forward like a highway steamroller. Had they dropped by now because this was an opportune moment to retrieve information—party contact lists, scheduling records?—that Kelly might not want Margaret to have?