He takes a breath. Then another. He’s covered with powder from the airbag. His cell phone has been knocked off the dashboard. It’s nowhere in sight.

But he’s alive.

The car is resting at a forty-five-degree angle, pressing Garrett against the driver’s-side door. He sees car lights on the road above the embankment. Then, through the rain, he sees two figures stumbling down the slope.

Before he can think or register what’s happening, the window on the passenger side shatters. Pebbles of glass hit him. He looks up and sees two dripping faces leaning in. Two men.

“How many hints do you need?” one of the men says. Garrett recognizes the voice. It’s the bouncer from Raymond’s Tavern. The hulk, Donnie.

“Tony wants this book to stop now.” That’s the smoker from Tony’s office.

Garrett is still in shock. Hard to grasp what he’s hearing.

“No more warnings,” the smoker says. Garrett sees a black shape in his hand.

The hand stretches toward him. Gun!

Garrett shouts, “No!”

The blast lights up the inside of the car.

CHAPTER
39

The man calling himself Jack Doohan pulls up as the black sedan speeds away.

He steps out of his car into the sleet. Sees the fresh skid marks on the icy gravel. He walks to the shoulder and looks down into the ditch. The subject’s rental car is about twenty feet below, on its side. Subject not visible.

Doohan is not sure what just happened. But based on experience, he has a pretty good idea.

For a few seconds, he stands there in the wintry mix, considering his options.

He looks back down the road and sees a vehicle headed his way. An SUV with a light bar. Not lit up. Local cop or state trooper. Probably just on patrol.

But a stopped car in this weather might draw attention. Doohan whips out his camera and snaps a picture of the subject’s vehicle. Then he jumps back into his own car and pulls away from the scene.

Don’t get involved.

Observe and report.

CHAPTER
40

The White House

Cole Wright is in his East Wing office with Secret Service agent Doug Lambert. It’s taken Lambert only one day to determine the identity of the woman who confronted Cole on the Mall.

“Sir,” he says, “Joan Marie Cardinal is a twenty-year-old sophomore at George Washington University. Political science major who lives on campus in Thurston Hall.”

“Politically active?” asks Cole.

“No, sir.”

“Background?”

“Grew up in Klamath Falls, Oregon. Poor community. Father on disability. Mom’s a waitress. No siblings.”

“How does she afford GW?”

“Scholarships, grants, work-study,” says Lambert. “She’s been living on a shoestring. Up to last week.”

“What happened last week?” asks Cole.

“Until then, her checking account balance was about five hundred dollars. And she was carrying a credit card debt of about four thousand.”