“We follow patiently,” she said. “Keller in front, Tavor behind. The rest hang loose, stay back. Charlie, what are you going to do?” She had to ask. Everyone knew Charlie did what he wanted.

“I’m a middle of the road boy,” Charlie said as he started the car. “I won’t be too close or too far.”

“Just don’t rear-end the guy,” Ms. Bane said. “He’s got to be a pigeon.”

Kelly agreed. The guy might not even realize what he had retrieved. There was an excellent chance he did not know a kidnapping was involved. The pigeon could be a patsy.

Kelly and Charlie roared down the road toward Sunset. Charlie drove like a fiend. They ran the light at the bottom of the hill, and three minutes later they were only forty yards behind the briefcase. It had a tracking device hidden inside but no one depended on it to remain in place or come near Buddy. Kelly studied their suspect through the traffic.

“He’s listening to music,” she said.

“What station?” Charlie asked.

“He’s not scared. He can’t be part of the inner circle.”

Charlie nodded, pulled out his 9 mm Sig, cocked it. “It would probably be a mistake to kill him.”

Kelly checked her own Glock. “Hope the guy knows where he’s going.”

“Ten to one he doesn’t. They’re going to call him.”

“Cell?” Kelly asked.

“Even these fools—they’re not that dumb. He’ll stop somewhere. They’ll have a schedule. They’ll ask if he’s being followed.” Charlie stopped.

“What is it?”

Charlie rubbed his three-day-old growth. He had not slept since Buddy had been kidnapped. An agent who cared, they didn’t make enough of them. “You’ll see.”

“Tell me.”

“Patience.”

“Fuck you,” she said.

Charlie grinned. “It’s just an idea. Let’s see what happens.”

The pigeon took Sunset to Fairfax and turned south. The guy continued to act cool. He must be a complete moron. What else could be in the suitcase except money? But Kelly had yet to see him open it.

The guy stopped at a McDonald’s and went inside. He left the briefcase in the car. Kelly assumed Charlie would simply drive by—like the other agents—but he pulled into the parking lot. Their radio beeped and Charlie turned it off.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

“I’m hungry.” Charlie holstered his gun and put on his coat over his T-shirt. He looked more like a poster boy for the homeless than an FBI agent. “Let’s get a Big Mac.”