The pub was jammed with office workers who preferred to eat their lunch away from their desks. It was also one of the most popular watering holes in the District. Jack was glad Maggie had called ahead for a reservation. He spotted her and waved.

There was a bit of a commotion as Jack and Harry removed their jackets and shook them out to rid them of the snow that was sticking to them.

It was hot and steamy in the cozy booth at the back of the pub. Waiters, trays held high, moved quickly as they shouted to one another. Everyone knew the service was only as good as the tip you left. Maggie was known as a high tipper. A waiter appeared, listened to their order, and raced off.

“How do you like this weather?” Maggie asked.

“It sucks. I wish I were on some island somewhere, on a beach with white sand, warm breezes, and a drink in my hand,” Jack said.

Harry agreed.

“It’s not going to happen. This is the Christmas season, so get in the spirit.” Maggie looked down at her watch. “Lizzie should be in Baron Bell’s office right about now.”

“How do you think that’s going to go?”

“Surely you jest, Jack!” Maggie teased. “How do you think it’s going to go? We’re talking about Lizzie here. He’s toast.”

Jack made a face. “Don’t be so sure, Maggie. I’ve seen that guy in court. They call him Saint Baron around the courthouse. There is also speculation that he has a couple of judges in his pocket. I’m just saying.”

“By chance, Jack, are those the same judges who get tongue-tied when Lizzie appears in front of them? You want to put his record up against Lizzie’s?”

Jack shook his head. “No, Maggie, I don’t. I just don’t want you to forget that Bell has some really powerful friends here in the District. Yes, I know Lizzie does, too. He goes in and out of the White House like it’s his home away from home.”

Harry watched the two of them, his head going back and forth like he was at a tennis match. He decided it was time to weigh in. “Lizzie will be working at the White House come January second.”

Maggie laughed. “Bell will be history by January second. Here, check this out,” she said, sliding a folder across the table. “I’m sharing my headline with you. What do you think?”

“Well, damn. You’re right. I think he might be toast,” Jack agreed.

“Might be?” Harry said, his tone full of menace.

Jack slid the photos and the mock-up headline back into the folder just as the waiter set down a huge tray with a dozen hot dogs, all topped with “the works,” along with a triple order of onion rings and french fries.