And … there was something else. Less obvious. The Honduras business of a few years earlier, when Addis had leaked to the Post that the CIA had been funding those drug-dealing generals in Central America. Had Mumfries and the CIA director taken their antiterrorism hit squad—Morrison’s squad—so deep, kept it secret from the agency and most of Congress, because they had been so embarrassed by this particular leak? The leak had been the right thing to do, Addis was sure. Senator Palmer, his boss, had practically ordered him to slip the information to the press. Addis remembered: Palmer leaning back in his leather chair, feet on the desk, shoes off: “Wish somebody’d go public. Nick, some things don’t have any right being hid.” The fact that the revelation would injure Mumfries, a Palmer rival—that had not been Addis’s motivation. Or Palmer’s. He knew that. He was sure. Right? There had been no other options. No other channels. Right?

One long curving piece of DNA. A Mobius strip.

“Now what?” Starrell asked.

Addis looked at him.

“You just standing there. Like you’re buggin.’ People are lookin’. Over there”—Starrell moved his eyes—“suits.”

Two Secret Service agents on the other side of the lobby were watching them. They were part of Margaret’s security detail. One was talking into the microphone attached to his lapel. Reporting Addis’s presence to someone? The one talking looked familiar to Starrell. Was he the man Starrell leaped over during his dash to the ambulance yesterday? Shit, Starrell said to himself, hope he ain’t recognizing me.

“Plan, man?” Starrell asked.

“No thanks.”

Starrell did not know what to say.

“Okay,” Addis said. “You take this.” He handed Starrell the knapsack. “Wait for me over there.” He pointed to a couch in the lobby. “Anything happens, you take that bag back to Holly.” She was waiting for Addis’s call in her office. Addis pictured her leaving the sandwich shop. “Nick,” she had said, “I’m glad to help.” He knew she was—and that he only needed a certain sort of help from her now.

“And then you get all this to Clarence,” he said to Starrell. “But, this time, try not to destroy a hospital.”

“Anything happens, like what?” Starrell clutched the bag.

“If I knew … Just wait. In thirty minutes, take off.”

“Think I’m going to stick out here?”

“Today, don’t ask me about sticking out.” Addis headed toward the front desk. He saw the clerk’s eyes flare with recognition.

“Hope you don’t mind.” Addis strode behind the front desk and into the back office. He moved quickly through several rooms. He found the door to a hallway used by the hotel’s employees. Work in Washington long enough, he told himself, and you learn the hotels inside and out. He passed waiters carrying dishes from the main ballroom. He pushed against the swinging doors.