Moss was a whirlwind then as he washed his hand and poured an antiseptic solution all over it. It still looked ugly and sore, but there was nothing he could do about that short of bandaging his hand, and he didn’t want to do that. He changed his clothes because there were blood streaks on his Izod golf shirt and a few spots on his khaki slacks. He jammed his personal household checkbook into his hip pocket.

In keeping with his down-home, just-another-guy persona, Moss drove the gardener’s battered pickup truck to the meeting.

Wolf was already in one of the cracked red-leather booths in the back of the diner, where he was guzzling coffee and preparing to chow down on what looked like a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich. He looked inquiringly at Moss to see if he was going to order anything, but Moss shook his head.

Gunter Wolf was a tall man, bony, with hollow cheeks and deep-set eyes. His forehead was like a shelf over his eyes. His nose was too small, and his lips were thin slashes across his face. He had beautiful teeth, and from time to time, Moss had wondered if they were his own or false. He shaved his head, and it was shiny bright. He dressed well in custom-made clothes to cover his extreme thinness.

“Talk to me.”

Moss talked, his voice even and flat. “That’s all I know at this moment. Some of it could be rumor, but I don’t think so. I want pictures, and I want to know where my wife goes, if she does attend with Director Sparrow, at the end of the party. I don’t want you to do anything, I just want to know where she goes.”

“You really want me to go up against the FBI?”

“What? You’re afraid of the FBI! I’m not asking you to intervene or accost him or my wife. All I want you to do is follow them. Stake out the Four Seasons. If you see them entering, take a picture. You must have a camera with long-range capabilities that you use when you track all those errant husbands.”

“Just like that, with all the Secret Service swarming all over the place, you expect me to take pictures and call attention to myself. There’s no place to stake out around the Four Seasons. I’ll stand out like a sore thumb, and I’ll get hauled in for questioning. I do not like having that happen. If you think this is all so damn easy, why don’t you do it yourself, Mr. Moss?”

“At this point in time that is simply not possible. Look, Gunter, if you don’t want the job, say so right now, and I’ll find someone who will take it.”

“This is not something easy you’re asking me to do, you know.”