Jordan’s free hand was balled into a fist.

Shit, he won’t give anything up.

“Just scare him, right? I’m guessing. That was the plan? But he wouldn’t scare. And I know that lawyer of his—Joe Mik—fucking asshole … So you … you.”

Addis held up the White House log.

Proof leads to more proof. Someone must have seen him near my office. What about fingerprints? Would there be any?

“But why last night, Lem? Why did you try to—”

“I saved you!” Jordan shouted.

He raised the gun and pointed it at Addis’s chest.

“I saved you,” Jordan repeated. “I s-s-saved you.”

Addis felt Jordan’s spittle on his face. He didn’t wipe it off.

“You shot out the window—”

“To save you!” The arm that held the gun jerked. It looked as if Jordan wanted to throw the pistol at Addis. “To save you! You!” Jordan hit his thigh with his fist. “And, and … her.”

“But you weren’t in the Trailblazer?”

Jordan shook his head.

“But you were following us, too. That it?”

There was no answer on Jordan’s face.

“Why?”

Jordan’s face was red.

“Put the gun down. Please, Lem. And tell me why.”

Jordan’s lips were tight.

“Somehow you knew,” Addis said. “You knew I was looking at the Blue Ridge deal and that …”

Addis recalled the day before when Jordan had told him the story about the time he accidentally killed a dog on a boat. “You knew there was a connection, didn’t you? Blue Ridge and the assassination. That if someone got past the official bullshit on the assassination, it would track back to that deal. You didn’t want that. And you heard Julia and me talking at Blair House.”

Addis thought about the morning they had been at Blair House.

“No, no … Jesus, you saw her shake her head at me when we were all watching Grayton making the announcement about Morrison and Dawkins. Was that it? One gesture. Enough to keep an eye on us. That was damn smart of you. You knew about Morrison’s son. You remembered Matthew Morrison. You made the connection. Only you … Look, Lem.”

Addis held out another piece of paper.

“A letter from Morrison’s father. He spoke to someone in the governor’s office. Someone who took care of things. And who helped his son hook up with a—I don’t know—some sort of squad. Out-of-channels, off-the-reservation, undercover.”

Addis could read nothing in Jordan’s eye. They were pebbles floating on his pie-pan face. A fireplug with a pie-pan face: Addis always had been proud to have conjured up that description of Jordan.