The two exchanged a glance. “We can’t go into that,” Parsons said.

Stone pointed. “There’s the door.”

“Now, listen, Barrington—”

“Don’t let the doorknob hit you in the ass on the way out.”

The two didn’t move.

Stone buzzed Joan. “Please get me Lance Cabot on the phone.” Cabot was director of central intelligence.

Parsons threw up a hand. “Just a minute.”

“Hang on,” Stone said to Joan, but he didn’t hang up. “What?”

“Let’s not make this adversarial,” Parsons said. “We just want to talk to him.”

“And I just want to find out if you’re who you say you are,” Stone said, “and what the hell you’re doing in my office.”

“Shall I ring Lance?” Joan asked.

“We’ll go,” Parsons said, rising.

“Cancel the call,” Stone said to Joan, and hung up. “Why are you still here?” he asked the two men.

They shuffled out of his office, and he heard the door close behind them. He buzzed Ed’s room.

“Hello?”

“Two guys from the Agency were just here to see you.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That you weren’t receiving callers.”

“I couldn’t have put it better myself. I’m sorry you were disturbed.”

“Don’t mention it,” Stone said.

Joan buzzed. “Lance Cabot on one.”

Stone pressed the button. “Good morning, Lance, long time no see or hear from.”

“Good morning, Stone,” Lance said smoothly. Lance said everything smoothly. “I understand you’ve been rude to two of my people.”

“Oh, God, have I violated the National Intelligence Security Act again?”

“You made that up—you know very well there is no such act.”

“I just said it to annoy you. What do you want, Lance?”

“We want to speak to Ed Rawls.”

“I’m his attorney. You can speak to me.”

“These are experienced officers, just doing their job.”

“And what is their job?”

“I can’t go into that.”

“They didn’t even want to show me ID.”

“They are unaccustomed to dealing with the general public.”

“I’m hurt, Lance, I thought you and I were intimates.”

“Sometimes—not this time. Did they show you their IDs?”

“Eventually. I’m a little skittish about that because a few days ago two men identifying themselves as FBI agents, with IDs and badges, presented themselves at my door in Maine. Turned out they were bogus, and so were their IDs.”

“I can imagine how upsetting that must have been for you,” Lance said archly.

“And one of them turned up dead in the ashes of Ed Rawls’s house, complete with his bogus badge.”

“That’s very unsettling. Did you report this to the FBI?”

“Not yet.”

“What are you waiting for?”

“I’m waiting to learn why you want to talk to Ed Rawls.”

“I assume you know that already.”

“Assume nothing.”

“I believe that Ed is in possession of some documents that don’t belong to him.”