Olivia nodded. She’d felt like a Ping-Pong ball bounced between Lodner and Agent Savich. But now, since she was with Savich, she’d say he’d won. At least there were no bodies on the floor. He was a handsome man, tough as nails, as she’d observed, but what impressed her the most was how he’d so smoothly taken down Lodner, and that was enough for now. “I could tell Lodner is starting to believe Mike never intended to bring in the flash drive, that he stole it and will sell it. That’s just plain crazy. Mike is sometimes a pain in the butt, a stubborn macho idiot, but he’s a man you’d trust with your life, a man to admire, loyal to his bones. Do you really believe you can find Mike? Find out why he went under with the flash drive?”

So this Agent Mike Kingman was important to Olivia, no, he was much more to her. Savich saw the desperate hope in her eyes and said without hesitation, “Yes.” It rather shocked him. Was he the macho idiot now? Did he think he was invincible, think he was so bloody smart he could resolve this mess?

Olivia searched his face. A small smile appeared. “All right then.”

So be it. Now he had to deliver. Savich rose, offered her his hand. “I think you’d be more comfortable, though, in my own conference room in the Criminal Apprehension Unit. It’s nearby. But first I’ll make sure we won’t have to talk things over with your CIA superiors again.”

He pressed a couple of buttons on his cell phone. “Ruth? Please go to the door and make sure our two CIA guests are well gone.”

A moment later, Ruth came back on. “They’re standing in front of the elevators; the taller man seems angry, seems like he’s berating the other one. The doors are opening, and they’re on. Doors close, now they’re gone.”

“Thank you, Ruth. CIA Agent Olivia Hildebrandt and I will be right with you.” He rose, stepped back, and motioned Olivia to join him. They walked into a large room full of workstations separated by short partitions and shelves. She heard voices, the sound of typing, saw an older woman with violent red hair give her a little wave. Shirley Needleham, the unit secretary and the keeper of the orange juice? She smiled, waved back. At the back of the room, a large glass window showed another office, this one with a view of the park outside, probably Savich’s. A man stood up, smiled at her.

Savich said, “Olivia, this is Agent Davis Sullivan. Davis, Olivia Hildebrandt, CIA.” He was a good-looking man, obviously surprised she was CIA. He smiled. “Don’t worry, you’re safe in here from the FBI gestapo.”

Olivia laughed. “And I have your big boss to protect me.”

Davis said, “None better.”