“Anyway, Hanover called him up. I know because I was in the room. He wants to ask Sam not to run against him, but he can’t really do that. But he’s trying to scare Sam out, let him know he’s going to do the deed. So he asks Sam for help. Like, ‘Hey, Sam, I’m starting to pull together a lil’ ol’ campaign staff. Got any bright ideas for me?’”

A security patrol passed by. Two bomb-sniffing German shepherds were part of the unit.

“So Sam covers the phone,” Kelly continued, “and tells me what Hanover wants. ‘Think I’ll recommend you,’ he says to me, and we both laughed. Then he says to me, ‘Hey, what about our favorite S.O.B. who screwed us on Honduras?’ And he says into the phone, ‘Well, Bob, there’s this sharp young man up here who works for Palmer.’ And that’s it. He hangs up the phone and says—and he’s talking about you—‘He’ll never be on our team. Better if he’s out there with Hanover whizzing against the tent than being around here and making it rain.’ And this was when nobody, Sam included, thought the President could be beat.”

Kelly stopped talking to see how this was registering. Addis did not say anything.

“So you see, Sam got you your job and look what happened.” He extended an arm. “All this … . Now, I’m not saying you wouldn’t have hooked up with Hanover one way or another. Maybe his next call was to Palmer. And maybe Palmer—since he wasn’t running—was going to send you off to him wrapped up with a pretty bow. Maybe this. Maybe that. But who knows? Who the fuck knows?”

“Thanks,” Addis said.

“It’s funny, don’t you think? I just assumed that Hanover told you about that.”

He never got around to it.

“Maybe he didn’t want to give Sam credit for such a good decision,” Kelly said, an edge in his voice.

“Thanks,” Addis said. “That’s one for the history books.”

“Sure is,” Kelly said. “See you later with those historians, right?”

He bounded toward the Oval Office. Addis had to think a moment about what to do next. His days used to be overloaded with meetings. In the absence of pressing official duties, he went to the East Wing to find Margaret Hanover.

Margaret’s office was almost completely disassembled. The desk was gone. The books were packed in boxes. The filing cabinets were covered with packing quilts. She sat on a crate. M. T. O’Connor was perched on another, reading from a folder.

“The invitations keep coming in,” O’Connor was saying, when Addis rapped on the open door.

“Not yet,” Margaret told O’Connor. She looked tired. She held a Bible, and caught Addis looking at it. “He took his inaugural oath on this Bible,” she said.

“How’s Jack?” he asked.