The White House grounds were an armed camp. Uniformed officers patrolled everywhere, brandishing weapons: .9 mm Glock pistols, Uzis. Government snipers were visible on the rooftops of the surrounding buildings. Mumfries was looking about. Addis guessed that the new President had expected to be greeted by the White House press corps. But there were no reporters, no microphones, no cameras. The media had been banished, with an exception. One camera crew had been permitted to remain on the premises and obtain footage for all news outlets. But under the new rules, the crew was kept far from the President.

Standing on the front steps, Mumfries spotted the camera crew two hundred feet away. He moved a closed fist across his chest in a sort of somber half-wave. He then strode through the White House front door and into a cloud of waiting aides.

Addis headed to the West Wing. Inside, he passed the Oval Office. Ann Herson, Hanover’s secretary for thirteen years, was not at her desk. The door was open. No one was there, and Addis walked in. The President’s desk was clean of all papers. Two empty cardboard boxes were on the floor.

Addis entered the small, private room to the side of the Oval Office. Here Hanover had placed a reclining chair. The room had a small stereo system. It was where Hanover did much of his reading. On the wall were his favorite photographs. His first day as attorney general. Jack running on a beach—before the car accident that had paralyzed the Hanovers’ only child. Hanover in a college production of Our Town. Margaret wearing his army jacket. Both of them at Graceland. Few aides and no reporters or visitors were allowed in this room. Herson did not permit it. “The most powerful man in the world,” she once remarked to Addis, “and all he gets is ninety-six square feet of his own.”

Addis left the Oval Office and shut the door. In the hallway, M. T. O’Connor, the President’s scheduler, was waiting for him. The two hugged; he bent his knees sharply so his cheek would be at the same height as hers. O’Connor’s hair fell in front of him. He noticed a few gray strands among the straight black lines. As scheduler, O’Connor held an important position in the White House; she arbitrated all the requests for the President’s time. Did he attend a nurses’ convention, appear at a fund-raiser, call a foreign leader? She juggled, battled with demanding aides, and oversaw how Hanover spent his waking hours.