What he had was a list of hot license plate numbers from an NCIC database. One of the entries was circled in blue pen.

NJ — DCY 488.

“It’s a Lexus ES, reported stolen from an apartment complex in Colliers Mills, New Jersey,” he said. “That’s, like, two, three miles down the road from where your white Suburban went into the water.”

I risked a half smile. “Tell me there’s more, Jerome,” I said. “There’s more, right?”

“Best part, actually. An LPR camera picked up the same plate number coming into long-term parking out at National on Saturday morning at four forty-five.”

LPR stands for License Plate Reader. It uses optical scanning software to read the tag numbers on passing cars and then compares those numbers against lists of wanted and stolen vehicles. It’s an amazing bit of technology, even if all the kinks haven’t quite been worked out yet.

“Any reason we’re just finding out about this now?” I asked. “That’s well over forty-eight hours ago. What was the problem?”

“The system isn’t live at the airport,” Jerome said. “There’s a manual download once a day, Monday to Friday. I just got this a few minutes ago. But, bottom line, Alex? I’m guessing your little birdies came home to roost.”

“I’m guessing you’re right,” I said, and turned back toward the office.

Even before I got to my desk, though, my excitement started turning into something else. This was a double-edged sword, at best. Considering the heat on Talley and Hennessey right now, I couldn’t imagine too many reasons why they’d come back to DC. Chances were, if we didn’t find at least one of them soon, some other fox in the henhouse was going to get a bullet in the brain.

Nothing like a little pressure to help you do your best work, right?

Chapter 83

IT WAS JUST after midnight when Denny approached the black Lincoln Town Car parked on Vermont Avenue and got in. The man he knew only as Zachary was waiting for him. Zachary’s usual nameless driver/goon was sitting face front at the wheel.

“The clock’s winding down on this thing,” Denny said straight-out. “We need to put it to bed before it all blows up.”

“We agree,” Zachary said. Like it was his decision. Like the big man in the ivory tower, whoever he was, didn’t pull the strings, write the checks, and call the shots here.

Zachary took a plain manila folder out of the seat pocket and handed it to him. “This will be our last arrangement,” he said. “Go ahead. Take it.”

Arrangement. The guy was too much.