“In your ICEMAN work to date,” he asked, “have you ever come across anyone connected to us who’s involved with a white supremacist group?”

“Not in this country,” she said.

“In this country?”

“There was the German case. The leader of the group that burned down a housing project for immigrants. He said that when he lived in East Germany he gave information to an American businessman he knew as ‘Mr. Mike.’ ‘Mr. Mike’ was one of ours—”

“Yes, and that skinhead asshole slit his wrist before the trial. One break for us.”

Wenner took off his glasses and placed them on his desk.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said.

“Would you mind telling me what’s going on?”

“About what, sir?”

“You want me to be a little more precise? First, a maniac tries to run you off the road. At that particular moment, Clarence Dunne is driving by and comes to the rescue. Then you disappear for two days. Now it’s not as if we can’t get along without our historical exercises for a day or two. But then Mr. Dunne is shot in unusual circumstances, and you turn up that night with Mr. Addis at the White House. I only find this out when Mr. Grayton calls to inform me about last night’s raid. Next, I gather, you spend the entire evening at the White House.”

“Actually, Blair House, sir.”

“Thank you, Ms. Lancette, for that correction. You would concede this is an unorthodox series of days and nights? And you would acknowledge that the head of an intelligence service might have a question or two for an employee involved in such a string of events?”

“I would, sir.”

“It is time for you to speak.”

He pushed the audit records to the side. There was a coffee stain on his tie.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, it is.”

Shit, she thought, let’s see what happens.

“There was an irregularity in an ICEMAN request regarding the Hanover assassination. A report didn’t come in. The branch chief assured me the delay was due to changeover in the office. Then I was contacted by an officer in the branch who claimed that a memo he had written in response to the request had not been forwarded, that it had been … repressed. This officer—”

“Dr. Charlie Walters in the psychiatric office.”

Lancette stopped speaking.

“We know all about Dr. Walters,” Wenner said.

“What about him?” she asked.

“He was arrested in Bujumbura yesterday after he hit a street vendor with his car and nearly killed the man. The police said he was drunk at the time. He was traveling as a State doctor. So he’s covered by immunity. The police released him to the embassy but they’re holding on to his passport. God knows what they’re going to do. Walters told one of our officers there about the report claiming he met the assassin once before.”