Rogers took Pham’s suitcase and put it into the trunk of the staff car, then opened the right rear car door for the colonel, who nodded to him and climbed inside. Shutting the car door, the CIA agent spoke indirectly to Condley. “Interesting file on him. I can tell you about it later.”

“You can tell me in the car,” said Condley. “His English is no good.”

“That’s not what his file says,” said Rogers, giving the colonel a grin and a little wave. “He speaks great English. At least he used to.”

Condley had reached him. He quickly extended his hand. “Skip Rogers, by the way. You can call me Mister Rogers. And like they say, welcome to my neighborhood.”

“General Duncan tells me you were a Marine,” said Condley, tossing his own bag inside the trunk.

“Thirty pounds ago,” joked Rogers, slamming the trunk closed and putting both hands over a growing belly. “I was in operational intelligence. First Skivvy Divvy, Camp Pendleton. Had a few, shall we say, interesting moments in the Gulf War. Got bored after that. Went to language school, signed up with a different team, and here I am.”

“Still doing operational intelligence,” joked Condley.

“Different targets, different rules,” said the peripatetic Rogers, pointing to the passenger-side front door to indicate where he wanted Condley to sit. “Interesting targets. And my rules. I like that.”

Rogers climbed in and started the car. The tires barked as he put the car into gear and headed away from the terminal. His clipped, frenetic style created an aura of control. He was, decided Condley, the kind of man who did things and who could be relied upon.

As they drove toward the heart of the city, Rogers pushed a folder across the front seat, giving it to Condley. He purposely gave the colonel a knowing look in his rearview mirror as he spoke. “Everything you need is in this folder. No problem, it’s sanitized. Colonel Pham should obviously expect that I would provide you with this information, so don’t worry about sharing it with him. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised at all if he decides to go for a long walk this afternoon all by himself. You know, a nostalgic little tour to reacquaint himself with the city. And with certain of his . . . friends, shall we say, who are still residing here. That’s fine too. Just don’t show him these materials until he’s back from his walk and you’re ready to go after your target. Otherwise, your target might somehow disappear.”

“An excellent point,” said Condley dryly. “One that I have already shared with the colonel.”