“Okay,” Addis said, “something like this: Blue Ridge was a setup, orchestrated by your father. The son of the couple who were fleeced was the one who killed your husband. This isn’t about white supremacists. This is more than a self-mutilating antigovernment nut with a gun. You created him—”

Margaret tried to interrupt, but Addis kept talking.

“Maybe not you directly. I can’t say. But all the bullshit wheeling-and-dealing down there and then all the bullshit wheeling-and-dealing up here. He was a monster of two worlds. And a shitload of people are dead because of … Of what?”

Margaret took a long breath.

Five, four … And what about Donny Lee Mondreau and the asshole who said he had committed that murder? And did you really connive to meet Bob when he was at Harvard? And Julia. What about Julia? Did you send me to New Orleans just to see what could be found out about the Blue Ridge deal? And then sent Lem to do the real work? Sorry, six floors is not enough to cover it all.

“Nick, you hold a tremendous amount of power. You’re dangerous. You are. You can decide … Despite what you think of … this, you have a responsibility. What you do will affect not just us, you and me, but millions, whose lives can be made easier or harder by the decisions we make here …”

Four, three … She’s not even asking about the assassination. She only cares about—

“You know what will happen if Mumfries wins? Who will gain and who will be fucked …”

He was startled by her use of the word.

“You want to put them in charge? You and I have worked too damn hard to … My father and others—perhaps Lem—made mistakes. I have. So did Bob, whom we both loved …”

Three, two …

“Don’t forget. We don’t always have the luxury of being self-righteous. Sometimes when we judge, others pay the costs …”

Two, one.

“Here we are.” The doors began to open. “Think,” she said to him, “about the others. This is not about me.”

“That’s for damn sure … . You know, I think it’s about me.”

She stepped out of the elevator. Four Secret Service officers quickly surrounded her. One began chastising her for not allowing the officers to descend with her. Behind them, Addis saw a man in a raincoat brandishing a gun, pointing it at him.

“Fuck, Anjean, that white guy’s about to drop someone. You got rocks, you come with me.”

Starrell yanked the bag from Jameson and headed after the man in the raincoat. Jameson jumped up and pointed the gun at Starrell. Someone screamed at its sight. Starrell ran a few steps. He spotted Margaret in front of the elevator. The Secret Service officers were focused on her. They had not yet seen the man in the raincoat—or the gun in his hand.

“Shoot his ass, Anj!” Starrell shouted and dropped to the floor.