Catherine saw Mayes’s immediate discomfort, and she hesitated, unsure just how much she wanted to turn up the heat. Quickly she decided to go for broke. “I noticed you arrived with Suzanne Brewer. She is responsible for protecting CIA personnel domestically, isn’t she? Obviously you must have concerns about Babbitt’s killer targeting Agency assets.”

Mayes held up his hands in surrender. “That’s a lot of speculation there, Ms. King. Your readers would probably appreciate facts, not conjecture. Like I said, talk to the police.”

Now she decided to drop the bomb. “Well, I would, but I doubt the Maryland police would have much information about that double homicide in Ward Eight the other night. Are you investigating the possibility of a connection to these crime scenes?”

“Ward Eight? I’m not sure I know what you are referring to.”

Mayes was a good liar, but Catherine knew he would be.

“Washington Highlands. Saturday night. Brandywine Street.” She smiled. “You know the one.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. King, I’ll have to break this off right there. If you want you can call Media Relations and they—”

“The Agency’s media people won’t be able to help me on my story. I am aware that you and Ms. Brewer went to the Brandywine Street crime scene the other evening, so I am speculating you had credible intelligence that event was related to a threat on Agency personnel. Then tonight, Babbitt is killed. He was closely affiliated with CIA. You are Clandestine Service, so I’m not sure what your interest in this is, but—”

Mayes turned and began walking back to the Suburban. His security men, late to recognize their principal’s discomfort, began moving between Mayes and the middle-aged woman following him.

Catherine backed off with a pleasant “Good night, Mr. Mayes.”

She received no reply.

—

Andy and Catherine found each other in the crazed lights of the crime scene a minute later.

Andy wore an expression of frustration. “I didn’t get a thing out of her.”

Catherine smiled, satisfied. “I struck out, too, but I don’t care. Most importantly, we shook the trees a little. I’ll reach out to Mayes in the morning, ask for a meeting on background with him and Carmichael, and helpfully suggest I might just go to the director’s office if I don’t get anything from them.”

“What will that accomplish?”

“Carmichael doesn’t like the director. He doesn’t like any director. He resents any oversight. My guess is the director is unaware Clandestine Service leadership is hanging out with the Maryland State Police.

“I surprised Mayes tonight with what I knew, I could see that. They are going to have to come up with some sort of story for me. It won’t be the truth, but they think it will slow me down.”

“But it won’t?”