“And after the first ballot, who will they vote for?” Carey asked.

“I guess that’s the question,” Addis said.

Finn stood up and began pacing. He never bumped into the furniture.

“Could state chairs get together first?” Finn asked. “Make a decision?”

“And enforce it?” Carey asked. “Good luck. You know we’re talking chaos, if we do not settle this damn soon.”

“May not be ours to settle,” Addis said.

Finn ran his fingers across the mounted samurai sword McGreer kept in a corner of the office. The intercom on the desk sounded, and McGreer picked up the phone. He frowned, hung up, and switched on the television.

Margaret Hanover was on CNN. She was in a hallway in the old Executive Office Building, outside the makeshift White House pressroom. A crowd of reporters surrounded her. Behind her stood M. T. O’Connor, twirling her hair, and Lem Jordan.

“Fuck,” McGreer said softly, as he raised the volume.

“I am touched by the outpouring of support that has come from across the nation and from around the world,” Margaret was saying. “It has meant so much to me and to Jack—and everyone who works here.”

“Mrs. Hanover, do you believe that security was too lax at the White House?” asked a reporter from the Wall Street Journal.

“No, no. These people have such a heavy burden here. They never got credit for those attempts they stopped. Even once when Jack and I were … I don’t think I should go into that. But I know they did their best. Every security system has lapses. I hope we can learn from this.”

She was somber. She looked at the reporters, not the cameras.

“If Mumfries decides to run, will you support him?” The questioner was off-screen. Addis recognized the voice—a producer for ABC News and a friend of O’Connor.

“Shit,” Carey said.

“As you know, President”—she said the word slowly—“Mumfries has not announced his intentions yet. So it would be unfair of me to speculate. I will say this: I am grateful for the support he gave my husband, and I hope that in the months ahead, if not the years after that, he will join me in fighting for the policies that Bob initiated.”

“‘Join me’?” Finn said.

“Have you thought about running?” Again, it was the ABC producer.

Margaret let out a slight laugh. “Now there’s an idea,” she said. “But seriously, today I am just thinking about Jack—what will be best for him. Our family has always been devoted to public service. They may have killed Bob, but not what he stood for … .”

She was starting to cry. A reporter offered her a handkerchief, and she dabbed at her cheeks.

“I probably should be going now,” she said. “I just wanted to see some friendly faces. Thank you.”

She walked out of the room.

McGreer turned off the television.

“Did you fucking know about this?” McGreer asked Addis.