Bush shrugged. ‘I came straight from the Common Way office.’

Walter grunted and took another big bite of swai fish, which was flaky and delicious. ‘Where’s Curtis?’ he asked, brushing crumbs out of his beard.

‘He’s in line. He wanted some camarones.’

Walter eyed the mirror. He spotted the forty-something private detective at the food truck window, and he frowned, seeing the man chat up three teenage girls. Curtis Ritchie’s car, a red Cutlass, was parked nearby. Walter was paranoid about being seen – or, worse, taped or photographed – but as a rule, he insisted on in-person meetings when he needed to talk about political business. Phones, computers, e-mails, tablets, they all scared the hell out of him. You could never delete any of it. Sooner or later, someone would dig up the bits and bytes, and it would be all over the news. Besides, he liked seeing people’s faces. You could read a lot in faces about who was scared and who was lying.

‘How’s the Governor?’ Bush asked him.

‘Nervous.’

‘Yeah, he should be.’

‘Are there any surprises coming that I should know about?’ Walter asked.

Bush shook his head. ‘No. They’re watching him and his people, but so far, there aren’t any new shitstorms.’ He added: ‘One of their spies caught you and Brent talking at the convention. That could have been bad. Good thing you covered for me.’

Walter shrugged. He knew who it was. The girl in the elevator. Damn, those people were smart. He’d warned Reed about underestimating Common Way. ‘Don’t worry, nobody knows about our arrangement,’ he said. ‘Not even the Governor. Not yet.’

‘Let’s keep it that way,’ Bush replied. ‘If people find out I’m playing both sides of the street in this race, that’s bad for business.’

‘We’re the ones who have everything to lose, Ogden. For you it’s just about money.’

Bush smiled, and even in the darkness of the car, his teeth were white. He brushed lint from his lapel. ‘Not true. I want back in, you know that.’

Walter finished his taco and crushed the paper wrapper into a ball. He didn’t like Ogden Bush. He didn’t like dealing with double agents and moles, but that was the price of the political game. The ends justified the means. Young people got into the game with high-minded ideals, but sooner or later the smart ones realized that winning dirty was a hell of a lot better than losing clean. There was no prize – and no power – for the ones who came in second.