An hour later, just after nine a.m., Hightower texted back, asking for a meet.

Brewer was supposed to be his buffer between himself and his Poison Apple assets, but he realized there was nothing more important than the mission Hightower was working, so he consented.

They met in the parking lot of a Dunkin’ Donuts in McLean, less than ten minutes from CIA HQ. Hanley rolled without his security, driving a borrowed Toyota Land Cruiser from the motor pool, and he pulled up under a thick oak tree growing near the edge of the lot.

He saw Hightower step out of a black Suburban, and Hanley scanned him head to toe as he began walking over. The big Texan climbed in next to Hanley, then adjusted the passenger-side mirror and the rearview mirror without asking. These two men had worked together for many years in some incredibly dangerous locations, and they had conducted clandestine meetings like this for much of that time. Both men knew their roles. Hanley would watch the front; Hightower would watch their six.

“Thanks for meeting me, boss.”

“No problem, Hightower, but let’s don’t make it a habit.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You said you had information.”

With a nod Hightower said, “The traitor has been preliminarily identified, sir.”

“How did you come to this conclusion?”

“By his reaction to my pressure.”

“Of course. Who is it?”

“My assessment is that the mole in the Agency is Deputy Director Lucas Renfro, sir.”

Hanley nodded slowly. Brewer had told Hightower that Hanley suspected Renfro, and there was apparently some sort of a beef between the two of them, but the DDO showed no outward reaction to the confirmation of his suspicions.

“How sure are you?”

“Pretty sure. If you let me do a black bag job on his place, I could be more certain.”

Hanley blew out a sigh. “Can you pull that off?”

Zack just looked at Hanley, then said, “It’s me, Matt.”

“And he’s a deputy director, Zack.”

“Which means Agency security will know all there is to know about his home protection measures, his passwords, everything I need to slip in and have a look around. You get me that intel, and I’ll make entry and search for incriminating information. I’ll place bugs, too, if you want.”

“You’ve got him scared?”

“Yes, sir. Last night I tailed him through a mall and he freaked. This morning I bumpered him on his way to breakfast near the Capitol. He looked terrified, checked me out every fifteen seconds, but he didn’t pick up his phone and call it in as near as I can tell.”

“Well, I can say he did not contact Agency security last night about your pressure. I would have heard about it.” Hanley bobbed his head from side to side. “That’s a pretty good indication he’s got something to hide.”

Zack was totally sold now. “Get me the details on his place, let me go in there. I’ll look for anything suspicious, and if I don’t find anything, I’ll make it clear someone has been in there looking around. Put a little more terror in him. Maybe send him over the edge.”

Hanley nodded. “All right. But he’ll be back and forth between Capitol Hill and meetings around the District today, budget hearings. He won’t be at HQ. I want you bumpering him during the day today, and then you can make entry when he goes to London tomorrow.”

“London?”

“The Five Eyes conference. Virtually everybody on the seventh floor is going.”

Zack had a blank look on his face.

“You don’t know about it?”

“No, sir. My invite must have got lost in the mail. Well, I’ll try to wrap this up before everyone jets off to their little powwow.”

Hightower shook Hanley’s hand, then reached for the door handle, but stopped. Facing the deputy director of Operations once more, he said, “Sir, since I’ve got your ear for a moment, can I speak with you about my code name?”

Matt Hanley fired up the Land Cruiser. “No, you cannot, Romantic. Those are randomly assigned. You get what you get. Luck of the draw.”

Hightower nodded, then reached again for the door handle. Turning back, he said, “Night Train?”

Hanley cocked his head. “I’m not tracking.”

“Night Train. Gotta admit, sir, it’s a hell of a code name, and it kind of fits me, don’t you think?”

Hanley leaned across Hightower now and opened the door for him. “I don’t think, Zack. Not about shit like that. Get out of here, and get me something actionable on Renfro.”

“Sir,” Zack said, compliantly, and he headed back to his Suburban.

* * *

• • •

Lucas Renfro sat in a booth at the Monocle Restaurant, a couple blocks north of the U.S. Capitol. It was early afternoon; he’d lingered over a boring lunch with his staff and peers from other U.S. intel agencies, checking his phone every few minutes for a text or call from Trina, his mistress, and trying not to worry about the people following him.

This was impossible. Between each nod in response to a colleague’s comment, before and after every sip of his Bordeaux blend, each bite of his flatiron steak or piece of his crusty bread, he looked over the room, searched out through the front window, glanced into the eyes of the men and women seated with him. Was the guy in the aviators watching him? Were his colleagues aware of the surveillance on him?

The tail had been on him today already. He’d left his home at seven a.m., and the concern of the previous evening kicked off again in seconds, when the black Suburban began rolling behind him just as he left his neighborhood.

The same bearded man behind the wheel.

He didn’t try to shake the tail. He knew this guy was Agency, and of course he knew why he was being tailed by Agency assets. He had a secret to hide, and now, it appeared, the secret was out.

With lunch ended, Renfro shook some hands and headed out the door, going back to the Capitol building for another three hours of hearings.

He’d made it most of the way, still checking for messages from his mistress and scanning for Mr. Aviators, when a woman’s voice called out from just behind him.

“Deputy Director Renfro?”

He stopped on the sidewalk, turned around, and saw Suzanne Brewer. He knew her from staff meetings and such but had no real relationship, working or otherwise, with her. Marty Wheeler, Renfro’s deputy, knew her much better. Still, Renfro was well aware that she had been an absolute rising star at the Agency for the past fifteen years, until she recently and inexplicably switched over to Ops to work under Matt Hanley.