Like the Red Sea, would-be rescuers and good Samaritans parted to let the sodden, barefoot specter hurry past. On his way into the lobby, Lou grabbed a towel from an oversized bin and coughed what seemed like a gallon of chlorinated pool water into it. There was still time, he was thinking, to catch Burke inside the hotel before he could get away with Humphrey’s notebook. Then he flashed on Vaill’s description of the ruthless murder of Humphrey’s caretaker, and of Vaill’s wife.

It was possible, likely even, that with his prize in hand, Burke would not come after him. But it also seemed certain that given half a chance, it would be a pleasure for the professional to finish what he had been about to do. The best chance Lou had with the least amount of risk to people was to call security and the police. He wondered if hotel security officers were like mall cops, or if they carried guns. Even if they did, he would be sending them to their death against Burke.

Still coughing into his towel, Lou braced himself against the front desk. Water dripped down his face and pooled on the granite surface. The attendant, a quick young man with black-rimmed glasses, a dark suit, and a name tag that read REYNALDO used a hand towel to blot the mess before it reached his keyboard.

“May I help you?” he asked, cool as a popsicle.

Lou was speechless,

Don’t you notice anything unusual about me? he wanted to say. I just did a six-story cannonball into your pool because a man broke into my room with a gun and was about to kill me. Would you please call security and the police?

Then it occurred to him that Vaill was keeping him hidden because the agent no longer trusted the FBI. The worst thing he could do now was to get the authorities—any authorities—involved. What he really needed was to get away from Burke, and to reconnect with Vaill.… Oh, yes, and to pick up some clothes and a pair of shoes.

Reynaldo stood by, waiting patiently.

“Um, the shower in my room is broken,” Lou said, using the coughing towel on his hair. “I was looking to see if the shampoo was in the stall, and the shower just went … on. Full blast, no warning.”

Improvised lying. He had been a master at it during the drinking and drugging years. It seemed that like his alcoholism, the ability to improvise a lie was never really far from the surface.

“I’m very sorry about that,” Reynaldo said. “I thought you might have been caught in the rain. Sir, what’s your room number?” he asked as if Lou had simply requested another pillow. “I’ll send maintenance up right away.”

The young desk clerk was clearly destined for bigger things.