Savich knew two things about CIA agent Olivia Hildebrandt, besides her name, from Detective Ben Raven in his early morning call. She’d been in Walter Reed Hospital until a short time ago recovering from wounds she’d suffered on a recent mission, and she was nearly killed by two men the night before, one of them Iranian. She looked exhausted, her face as pale as her white shirt, the dash of lipstick on her mouth not much help. Her thick chestnut hair was pulled back from her thin face in a fat French braid. She had expressive eyes, a deep blue, nearly navy, but the shadows beneath them were dark enough to hide in. Savich believed he saw strength in her eyes and hoped he was right.

He smiled at her from the doorway of the interview room. “Good morning, Agent Hildebrandt, Detective Raven, and you must be Mr. Grace.”

Grace stood, offered his hand. “Yes, I’m Carlton Grace, Agent Hildebrandt’s chief—in popular parlance, her handler. I direct and coordinate her assignments. A pleasure to meet you in person, Agent Savich. I’ve heard of you, naturally. I’m only sorry it’s under such trying circumstances.”

Savich shook Grace’s hand, a slender hand with short buffed nails, but his grip was firm. He was a slight man with narrow shoulders, no taller than five feet eight, a long straight nose, a square jaw. He was comfortable to look at, his clothes sort of wrinkled, a guy you wouldn’t give a second look if he walked by on the street. Ben had warned Savich that CIA Operations Officer Grace had only grudgingly agreed the incident at Hildebrandt’s house was FBI purview, and he’d been even more reluctant to bring Olivia Hildebrandt and his own superior, Mr. Fulton Lodner, the CIA director of intelligence, to the Hoover Building, as if the FBI harbored a den of thieves. Lodner was late, perhaps to make an entrance? Savich had held firm, he wanted the CIA on his turf. Ben had said about Carlton Grace, “My take is Grace is reasonable enough, very worried about his agent, but he’ll follow his chain of command and they’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you from getting any information they want to keep classified, no matter how needful such information would be to you. My advice? Keep your boot on their necks or they’ll chop off your foot.”

Carlton Grace said, “Agent Savich, as you already know, this is Agent Hildebrandt.”

Savich gently took Hildebrandt’s hand. “I’m Special Agent Savich. No, don’t get up.”