“Jane Petrie’s cell-phone number and the pensione where she’s staying in France.”

“Good! Good! I do love your spirit of cooperation. I think we’re done here. I’ll be in touch. Just don’t take any sudden trips, Mr. Goodwin. If you do, we will find you. Don’t let that ego-driven bastard in your office scare or intimidate you. He puts his pants on the same way you do.” In spite of himself, Goodwin laughed out loud. “Now, is there a way to get out of here without Moss’s seeing me?”

Goodwin pointed to the door at the end of the room. “It will put you in a side hall, take the steps to the end of the hall, and you’ll come out at the parking lot. Is that where you’re parked?”

“No, I’m parked across the street in the Taco Bell lot.”

Goodwin thought that was funny, too. He laughed again. “I get it, that’s where your stakeout is. Smart.”

Goodwin waited a full five minutes after Kathryn left before he felt ready to return to his office. He sucked in his stomach, straightened up, and marched down the hall to his private office. Now that he had the FBI watching his back, he felt like he was King of the Walk. He blasted into his office like he owned it, which he did. “Are we done here, Mr. Moss, or do you plan to threaten me some more?”

Moss narrowed his eyes. Something had happened while the man was out of the room. He hated it when he didn’t have all the facts at his fingertips. And this guy was suddenly too cocky. Before he’d left the room, he’d been in a world of stress.

“We’re done. For now.” The implied threat that there was more to come was there. He turned on his heel and left the office, his fingers hitting the number three on his speed dial, the Director of the IRS, Aaron Sangelli.

“Aaron, Lincoln Moss here. How’s it going?”

“This is the IRS, Lincoln, how do you think it’s going? What can I do for you on this humid hot day in the middle of summer?”

Was it his imagination, or did Sangelli’s voice have an edge to it? He got right to the point. “I’d like you to schedule a full-blown audit for one Joel Goodwin. He owns that political tabloid called In the Know. And the tabloid, too. ASAP. I’d like you to send out the notice to both Goodwin and the paper no later than tomorrow. I’ll owe you one for this, Aaron.” The silence on the other end of the phone brought Moss to full attention. He felt a distinctive flutter in his stomach.

“Sorry, Lincoln, no can do. I just got a personal call from the Director of the FBI, and he said there will be no audit of Mr. Goodwin or his paper. He also was kind enough to alert me to the fact that you, as in you, Lincoln Moss, do not tell the IRS what to do, when to do it, or how to do it. He mentioned you by name, Lincoln, and I’ve been around this town long enough to know the man was loaded for bear. So, do you want to rethink that request? Look, if it’s that important to you, you have the ear of POTUS. If you want its getting out to the media, that is. Think carefully, Lincoln. And this conversation never happened.”