“So you don’t have to take a leak in the middle of a surveillance.”

Donovan blinked.

“You’re not the first FBI agent I’ve met,” she said.

“I guess not.”

She gingerly set her coffee cup in the center of the desk. “This is my favorite cup,” she said. “It’s a fabulous design—I’m thinking of using it for my White House pattern. I lifted it from the governor’s mansion after a dinner party.”

“You stole government property?”

“It’s still government property—I just had it transferred to a different department. The governor’s wife had a breakfront full of them; I didn’t think she’d miss just one.” She gave Donovan a wink. “Always count the silverware when the politicians leave.”

“Thanks, I’ll remember that.”

She opened a manila file folder and scanned it quickly. “Special Agent Nathan Donovan,” she read. “I was impressed with your record. Your wife is quite impressive in her own right: an expert in international terrorism and professor of international relations at Georgetown. The two of you make quite a pair.”

“Behind every great man there’s a great woman,” Donovan said.

“Behind or in front—it depends on your perspective. Do you know why I requested you for this assignment, Mr. Donovan?”

Donovan paused. “I understood that the senator requested me.”

“As I said, it’s a matter of perspective. I was born in the town of Endor—did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I left when I was very young—my parents were bright enough to realize that there were better opportunities for me elsewhere—but still, Endor is my hometown, and I feel a certain responsibility to the people there.”

“You sound like your husband.”

“Do I? I’ll have to do something about that. My point is, the people of Endor deserve to know that their elected officials haven’t forgotten them. They need to see that something is being done to protect them.”

“And so do the voters of America.”

“Why, Mr. Donovan, that sounded almost cynical. Where’s your lofty idealism?”

“Sorry,” Donovan said. “That’s something else I gave up when I joined the FBI.”

“Then you are a cynic.”

“I prefer to think of myself as a realist.”

“So do I. So tell me—realist to realist—what’s the situation at the Patriot Center?”

“What would you like to know?”

“I’m asking for your report, Agent Donovan.”

“Well, I’ve been to the crime scene and I—”

“The excavation site.”

“Excuse me?”

“Has it been proven that the two additional bodies were, in fact, victims of foul play?”

“There isn’t much doubt.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

Donovan paused. “No, it hasn’t been proven—but I think it will be. I believe in calling a spade a spade.”