Alison hoped things with Gabe would turn out to have more substance. Meanwhile, it was good to know that the witty, intelligent, resourceful Owens was on her side—especially in situations like today, when the only one who might rapidly be able to fill her needs was an FBI agent. Owens had been happy to hear from her but made no promises at first. However, within half an hour he had called her back with a single name, Lester; a time, two thirty; and a place, right where she was standing. She reached into her jacket pocket for her cell phone at the moment it began ringing.

"Yes?"

"Alison, it's Seth. Everything okay?"

"Well, not exactly. It's, like a hundred degrees out here in front of the monument, every ounce of love I once had for schoolchildren has been ripped from my bosom by one stampeding horde after another, and your man Lester has failed to appear."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure."

"Very sure?"

"Uh-oh."

"I did mention that Lester had a flair for the dramatic, didn't I?"

"I think you might have said something like that, yes."

"So Alison, my flower, what did you call and ask me for?"

"I asked you for the best pickpocket on the planet—the man you guys would send out to pluck a prime minister's speech out of his jacket before he got to deliver it."

"That's exactly what you said. So, why don't you take a look inside your purse."

"Inside my—"

The moment she touched her shoulder bag, she knew something was wrong. She opened it up. Her wallet was gone. So were her notebook, her lipstick, at least four packs of Trident, and a mini-size copy of A Walker's Guide to Washington. In fact, the purse was empty, completely empty. Well, not exactly. Lester—she had to assume it was he—had replaced the weight of what he had taken from her with plastic packs of Tic Tacs, at least a dozen of them.

"Your right earring?"

"Gone," she said, realizing even before she felt for it that it was.

"Like you, Lester is very good at what he does."

"I guess. Okay, Owen. I'm a believer. Where is he?"

"See the group of kids at the far end of the stairs?"

"Yes."

"See the guy entertaining them?"

"The one juggling?"

"Lester."

"He just waved to me without dropping a ball. I owe you big-time, Owens. When I get back to San Antonio, dinner at Paloma Blanca's on me."

"I thought you didn't want to come back," Seth said.

"If I screw this up, I may be shipped back to wash the urinals. Gotta go. Lester just waved to me again, this time with an Indian club while he was juggling two more with his other hand. I think he and I will be able to do business, provided he doesn't get busted by the park ranger heading toward him. Thanks, pal."

CHAPTER 38