Adel Newsom continued to screech. “Don’t tell me to shut up, Baron. You turned green when I told you that reporter, the one who runs the Post, came to my office. You almost wet your pants when that old harridan that works for you told you the same thing. They know.”

“Who are they, Adel?” Bell demanded through clenched teeth.

“They are whoever you want them to be. Lizzie Fox, the reporters, that Hispanic guy back at the beach house. And I wouldn’t be one damn bit surprised to find out that those goddamn vigilantes are in on this. I never believed for one minute that they got away from Lizzie Fox when they made their escape. She’s too smart to let something like that happen. What that means, Baron, is she’s involved with them. You said this was foolproof. I believed you. Now we’re a hair away from getting caught. Goddamn you, Baron, say something.”

“Shut up, Adel. I’m thinking.” And he was thinking. But he was thinking about the children’s Christmas party at the White House. He was reasonably certain he’d covered all his tracks. What Adel did, she did on her own. The worst thing that could happen to him, he thought, was he’d be a three-day story about an extramarital affair. He might be banned from the White House for a while, but all things blew over sooner or later in Washington. No matter what, he had to pull off the Christmas party. No matter what.

Bell wondered if he could get away with killing Adel Newsom.

“Lizzie Fox did not file the suits yet. She said she wanted to make a deal. She just did us the courtesy of letting us know what she had. She’s in the Post’s pocket, and that’s how they know. Legally, Lizzie will cut a deal. She’s probably the most ethical lawyer in the District. For God’s sake, she has the president’s ear. The Post is just interested in headlines and selling papers. In case you aren’t getting it, Adel, this is about those babies you’ve been selling to the highest bidder. I warned you. This is what you get for thinking you’re smarter than I am. I’m going to enjoy watching them dragging you off to jail.”

“You miserable son of a bitch! Do you think for even a nanosecond that I won’t tell them all those surrogates and adoptive parents were referrals from you?”

“If you’re dead, you won’t be able to tell anyone anything,” Bell snarled.

Adel Newsom clamped her lips shut and started to wail. “What are we going to do, Baron?”