“The orderly,” he said.

And that’s all he said, as if it should explain everything. After a few moments of thought, I understood, but sometimes I wished he’d give my brain a break and let his tongue do some of the work instead.

I remembered the look the young man had given us before hurrying off. If Boris Nikolaev knew Little Joe had let something slip about that old hit on the senator, and he knew we’d terminated Joe’s hired gun, he’d know there was a good chance we’d come back. Easiest way to make sure he found out about it would be to bribe the orderly for a tip-off. Yet, by the time Boris got someone here, we’d be long gone…which meant he probably had someone nearby or even on the property, waiting for a call.

Less than two minutes after we got behind the shed, the rattle of the bathroom door sounded through the open window. A figure appeared at the bathroom window. He ducked and peered out. I squinted to get a better look, but all I could see was his mouth, the rest of his face hidden under the bill of his ball cap.

The man scanned the lawn, then disappeared.

I glanced at Jack. He motioned for me to wait. The front screen door slapped shut. A stocky figure in a Cleveland Indians jacket hurried off the porch and cut across the lawn, then headed into the trees, toward the lot where we’d parked.

Jack grabbed my elbow and pulled me along at a jog. We looped behind the home and straight for the wooded path the thug had taken. Now, it would seem to me that the time to make a run for the car was before Nikolaev’s thug got to it, but maybe that was just too simple for Jack.

We skirted the wooded side field. Before we reached the path, Jack stopped. He surveyed the semidark forest, then prodded me into a thick patch.

We had to move carefully. The chill of the last few days had fulfilled its promise with an early morning frost and here, out of the sun, the undergrowth was still covered with a thin sheen of it, crackling with every ill-placed footstep. The thug didn’t bother with stealth, and we could hear him as easily as if he had maracas strapped to his legs.

“Wait.” Jack turned to go, then glanced back. “Duck down. Stay hidden.”

“And then what?”

“Don’t let him see you.”