As the cab cruised past the field office and neared the spot, Lou dropped two limp wrinkled twenties onto the front seat and bolted before they had come to a complete stop. As best as his still-saturated jeans would allow, he got into a crouch and weaved to Vaill’s passenger’s-side door like a man afraid of getting shot by a sniper, which, essentially, he was.

Alexander Burke had proved his skill as an agent as well as his viciousness and absolute remorseless. Now it was time for Vaill to take charge and lead them in some sort of counterstrike. Two problems: even in top form, it was unlikely he was a match for the killer, and at the moment, post-op with a rainbow scar and unpredictable, disabling headaches, he most certainly was not in top form.

“Buckle up, buddy,” he said. “If I pick up a tail, we’re going to have to do some fancy driving to lose him, or even better, to come up behind him. Just like the fighter pilots.”

“I don’t think he’s out there, Tim. At least not right now.”

“Explain.”

“He’s got what the Neighbors want, Humphrey’s notebook, and now he’s got to deliver it to wherever they are, probably as quickly as possible.”

“I suppose.”

“That doesn’t mean forget about him, but I am willing to take the chance he’s postponing coming after either of us until his mission is complete. Then maybe he’ll come after us instead of taking a well-earned vacation to the Caribbean or something. All that is by way of saying I need to get out of these damn clothes and into something dry.”

“How about we find a place to stay first?”

“How about we stop by a store for some sweats and a pair of sneakers? My inner thighs can only take so much of this.”

For the first time, Vaill cracked a smile.

“You got it,” he said.

To the credit of the staff at Richie’s Sporting Goods, no one reacted to the disheveled, sodden, shoeless customer with an “M.D.” following the name on his MasterCard, which, not surprisingly, failed to work after its soaking. Vaill quickly pulled out a wad of cash before the clerk even started keying in the account number by hand. Fifteen minutes of rapid shopping, and Lou left the store with a set of sweats, a sharp pair of New Balance running shoes, shorts, socks, underwear, T-shirts, an Atlanta Falcons jacket, an Atlanta Braves cap, an Atlanta Hawks sweatshirt, and $270 owed to his new partner.

“My delicate inner thighs thank you,” Lou said as they drove away.

“In nearly a month working together, Chuck McCall never cost me a dime,” Vaill replied. “And he never mentioned his delicate inner thighs, neither. Now, let’s first make certain Burke isn’t even better than we fear, and then find somewhere to settle in and look at this evidence I brought.”