“All right, then. Denny’s got a little errand to run. You sleep tight, man.”

He stepped into his black engineer boots and picked up the room key, and a second later he was gone.

Chapter 46

DENNY HURRIEDLY WALKED DOWN Eleventh Street and over on M to Thomas Circle. It felt good to get out on his own, without Mitch on his back for a change. The kid could be a lot of fun, but he was a real piece of luggage, too.

Just past the Washington Plaza Hotel, on the relative quiet of Vermont Avenue, a black Lincoln Town Car was parked under a flowering crab apple.

Denny walked up the opposite side of the street and crossed over at N, then came back down. When he reached the car, he opened the back door and got in.

“You’re late. Where have you been?”

His contact was always the same guy, with the same stiff attitude. He went by Zachary, whatever his real name might have been. It didn’t matter. To Denny — whose name was not Denny — this asshole was nothing more than a well-paid mule in a Brioni suit.

“These things don’t run on a fixed schedule,” Denny said. “You need to get that through your head.”

Zachary ignored the tone. He was like Spock, this guy, the way he never showed emotion. “Any issues?” he asked. “Anything I need to know about?”

“None,” Denny said. “I don’t see any reason not to proceed to the next phase.”

“What about your shooter?”

“Mitch? You tell me, partner. You’re the ones who vetted him.”

“How is he in the field, Denny?” Zachary pressed.

“Exactly the ringer I thought he’d be. As far as he’s concerned, this is the Mitch and Denny Show, nothing else. I’ve got him completely under control.”

“Yes, well, all the same, we’d like to take some further precautions.”

He gave Denny two folded sheets from his inside breast pocket. Each one had a simple map printed on it, with a handwritten name and address beneath, and a single color photograph paper-clipped to the front.

“Hang on,” Denny said once he’d seen them. “We never discussed anything like this.”

“We never set any parameters at all,” Zachary said. “Isn’t that the whole point? I hope you’re not going to start quibbling now.”

“That’s not what I said,” Denny replied. “I just don’t like surprises, that’s all.”

Zachary’s laugh was less than convincing. “Oh, come on, ‘Denny.’ You’re the king of surprises, aren’t you? You’ve got all of Washington on tenterhooks.”

Zachary reached over the front seat and took a canvas pouch from the driver, then laid it on the padded armrest between them. This was a pay-as-you-go contract, and Denny’s price, as always, had been nonnegotiable.