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Bowden out of Iowa, are you, Elmer?’”
    “And you said?”
    “I said, ‘Go fuck yourself, Norm. I wouldn’t pull that kind of bullshit on you.’ He went away, but she’s still here, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they thought I was trying to get her out of the state. We’re dealing with some serious skepticism over there.”
    “One chubby lady with curly white hair and glasses and a guy with gray eyes who looks like a Confederate soldier, and one bad cell phone photo. That’s all you’ve got?”
    “There’s a little more,” Henderson said. “Our website is inundated with e-mail. We have a few guys going through it looking for two things: possible donors and possible threats. There have been four e-mails from somebody named ‘Babs.’ They read like nutty political position papers and they also urge me to move toward the center. One of them says that the author knows my heart’s in the right place, but I can’t get the nomination unless I pretend to move to the center.”
    “Exactly what the chubby lady told you,” Lucas said.
    “Precisely the same words. But, instead of a momentary contact, there are also these position papers. It’s the position papers that tell you these people may be crazy and may be dangerous. You’ll have to read them. They want a revolution. If a few eggs have to be broken, that’s the only way to make an omelet.”
    “Okay. What do you want me to do?” Lucas asked.
    “I want you to find these people and find out what they’re up to,” Henderson said. “And do it fast. I’m really afraid something could happen here. When you find them, we’ll get the Iowa cops to sit on them.”
    “If something did happen to Bowden, how would that affect your chances?” Lucas asked.
    “What a rotten, cynical question to ask. I’m proud of you,” Henderson said.
    “What’s the answer?”
    Henderson shook his head. “I’d be done. I can’t take thenomination straight out. I’m too far left. There’s no way I could pretend to move to the center and Minnesota isn’t a swing state. If Bowden went down, Carl Bartley from Ohio would jump into the middle of it, and maybe Doug Jensen from Missouri. If either one of them got the nomination, neither one would offer me the vice presidency, because I don’t match up so well with them. They’re both Midwesterners, for one thing. They’d go for a woman or a big-state guy, somebody from one of the coasts. North Carolina or Florida or Washington.”
    “All right. I’ll go talk to Alice, see what she has to say, and see if I can figure something out,” Lucas said.
    “Alice . . .” Henderson said. He glanced at Lucas.
    “Did you really have to do that, Governor?” Lucas asked.
    Henderson spread his hands. “You know I’ve always had trouble with pretty women. Especially redheads. And blondes.”
    “And brunettes and Hispanics and Asians and a few long-legged African-Americans . . .”
    “I know. I feel bad about Alice when we’re not actually . . . you know,” Henderson said.
    “When you get to Washington, you’ll take care of her?” Lucas asked.
    “Oh, yeah. Even if I don’t make VP. I’ve already started talking to her about it. You know she comes from Virginia?”
    “I guess.”
    “There’s a weak-ass Republican congressman, right from her hometown, who needs to be replaced,” Henderson said. “Three years out, our Alice could be looking at a major promotion.”
    “Think she’s up to it?”
    “I know it,” Henderson said. He stopped to look back at Green, who flashed him a smile. “She’s smart, got great red hair, great green eyes, great smile . . .”
    “Great ass.”
    “Don’t give me any shit about that, Lucas—not with your history,” Henderson said, irritated. “No matter what happens with me, I’ll get her an impressive-sounding staff job in Washington, something involving Virginia agriculture and natural resources,” Henderson said. “I’ll buy her some top-end TV training,