“The goddamn accident report. I've got to make it out.”

“Accident report?”

“Yeah, I had a small wreck the last time I was here about two weeks ago. . .”

“Alright, alright. . . Yes, two more Carlsbergs.”

“. . . And the car blew up the next night and I had to abandon it in Rock Creek Park at four in the morning. I think they're still billing me for it.”

“Who?”

“The Avis people.”

“My God, that's teddible.”

“I only had it two nights. The first night I had this wreck, and the next night it blew up.”

“What were you doing in this wretched city at four in the morning?”

“Well, actually we were thinking about going out to Tex Colson's house and jerking him out of bed, tying him behind the car with a big rope and dragging him down Pennsylvania Avenue. . . then cutting him loose in front of the White House Guard Gate.”

“You're kidding. . . You don't really mean that. You wouldn't do a thing like that, would you?”

“Of course not. That would be a conspiracy to commit either murder or aggravated assault, plus kidnapping. . . and you know me, Ralph; that's not my style at all.”

“That's what I mean. You were drunk perhaps, eh?”

“Ah, we were drunk yes. We'd been to a party at McGovern's.”

“McGovern's? Drinking? Who was with you?”

“Drinking heavily, yes. It was Warren Beatty and Pat Caddell, McGovern's poll wizard, and myself and for some reason it occurred to me that the thing to do that hour of the morning was to go out and get Colson.”

“My God, that's crazy! You must have been stoned and drunk -- especially by four in the morning.”

"Well, we left McGovern's at about 2:30 and we were supposed to meet Crouse at this restaurant downtown. . . McGovern lives somewhere in the Northwest part of town and it had taken me two hours to find the damn house and I figured it would take me another two hours to get out again unless I could follow somebody. Crouse was about a block ahead of me when we left. I could see his taillights but there was another car between me and Crouse and I was afraid I'd lose him in that maze of narrow little streets, almost like country lanes.

" 'We can't let Crouse get away,' I said. So I slammed it into passing gear and passed the car right in front of me in order to get behind Crouse, and all of a sudden here was a car coming the other direction on this street about 15 feet wide -- just barely enough room for two cars to pass and certainly not enough room for three cars to pass, one of them going about 70 miles an hour with a drunk at the wheel.