At a few minutes past five, Shafer got into his Jaguar in a parking lot outside the glass-walled Rotunda.

She’d seen him twice before. He was in very good shape, and attractive, too, though not a physical type she herself responded to. Shafer sure didn’t hang around long after the workday ended. Hampton figured he either had someplace to go or really hated his day job. Possibly both.

She stayed a safe distance behind the black Jag, following it along crowded Massachusetts Avenue. Shafer didn’t seem to be heading home, and he wasn’t going to Southeast, either.

Where are we going tonight? she wondered as she tailed him. And what does it have to do with the Four Horsemen? What game are you really playing? What are your fantasies?

Are you a bad man, a murderer, Geoffrey? You don’t look like it, blondie. Such a nice, spiffy car for a scumbag killer.

Chapter 65

AFTER WORK, Geoffrey Shafer joined the clogged artery of rush-hour traffic inching along Massachusetts. Turning out of the embassy, he had spotted the black Jeep behind him.

The tail was still there as he drove down Massachusetts Avenue.

Who’s in the Jeep? One of the other players? D.C. police? Detective Alex Cross? They’ve found the garage in Eckington. Now they’ve found me. It has to be the bloody police.

He watched the black Jeep as it trailed four cars behind him. There was only one person inside, and it looked like a woman. Could it possibly be Lucy? Had she discovered the truth about him? God, had she finally figured out who and what he was?

He picked up his mobile phone and made a call home. Lucy picked up after a couple of rings.

“Darling, I’m coming home, after all. There’s a bit of a lull at the office. We can order in or something — unless you and the children already have plans.”

She blathered on in her usual maddening way. She and the twins had been going to catch a movie, Antz, but they’d rather stay home with him. They could order from Pizza Hut. It would be fun for a change.

“Yes, what fun,” Shafer said, and cringed at the thought. Pizza Hut served indigestible cardboard drenched with very bad tomato soup. He hung up, then took a couple of Vicodin and a Xanax. He thought he could feel cracks slowly opening up in his skull.

He made a dangerous U-turn on Massachusetts Avenue and headed toward home. He passed the Jeep going in the opposite direction and was tempted to wave. A woman driver. Now, who was she?

The pizza got to the house at around seven, and Shafer opened an expensive bottle of Cabernet. He washed down another Xanax with the wine in the downstairs bathroom. Felt a little confused, fuzzy around the edges. That was all right, he supposed.