He had killed Martin Luther King, as surely as Henry Loeb and Barry Goldwater and George Wallace had killed him.

The show would be broadcast tomorrow, Saturday, at eight in the evening, without the kiss.

Dave ordered a bottle of bourbon from room service and fell asleep on the couch.

In the morning he woke up early knowing what he had to do.

He showered, took a couple of aspirins for his hangover, and dressed in his most conservative outfit, a green check suit with broad lapels and flared pants. He ordered a limousine and went to the studio in Burbank, arriving at ten.

He knew Charlie Lacklow would be in his office, even though it was the weekend, because Saturday was broadcast day, and there were sure to be last-minute panics—just like the one Dave was about to create.

Charlie’s middle-aged secretary, Jenny, was at her desk in the outer office. “Good morning, Miss Pritchard,” Dave said. He treated her with extra respect because Charlie was so rude to her. In consequence she adored Dave and would do anything for him. “Would you please check flights to Cleveland?”

“In Ohio?”

He grinned. “Is there another Cleveland?”

“You want to go there today?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Do you know how far it is?”

“About two thousand miles.”

She picked up her phone.

Dave added: “Order a limousine to meet me at the airport there.”

She made a note, then spoke into the phone. “When is the next flight to Cleveland? . . . Thank you, I’ll hold.” She looked at Dave again. “Where in Cleveland do you want to go?”

“Give the driver Albert Wharton’s home address.”

“Is Mr. Wharton expecting you?”

“It’s going to be a surprise.” He winked at her and went into the inner office.

Charlie was behind the desk. In honor of Saturday he was wearing a tweed jacket and no tie. “Could you make two edits of the show?” Dave said. “One with the kiss and one without?”

“Easily,” said Charlie. “We already have an edit without the kiss, ready to broadcast. We could make the alternative this morning. But we’re not going to do it.”

“Later today you’re going to get a phone call from Albert Wharton, asking you to leave the kiss in. I just want you to be ready. You wouldn’t want to disappoint our sponsor.”

“Of course not. But what makes you so sure he’s going to change his mind?”

Dave was not at all sure, but he did not tell Charlie that. “Having both versions ready, what would be the latest time you could make the change?”

“About ten minutes to eight, Eastern time.”

Jenny Pritchard put her head around the door. “You’re booked on the eleven o’clock plane, Dave. The airport is seven miles from here, so you need to leave now.”

“I’m on my way.”

“The flight takes four and a half hours, and there’s a three-hour time difference, so you land at six thirty.” She handed him a slip of paper with Mr. Wharton’s address. “You should be there by seven.”