we hustle our butts, we’ll make the eleven o’clock news.”
“You got anything to eat in there? I’m not talking about those weeds you call vegetables. Man food.”
“Got tons of frozen dinners and some leftover Chinese. Fridge full of beer.”
“Then I’m your man. Let me get my go-bag out of the trunk.”
The go-bag was a bag of supplies most agents kept in their cars in case they were directed to hop a plane or train on the spur of the moment. The bag contained shaving gear, clean underwear, and several shirts, along with a warm-up suit. The trick was to remember to repack the bag once it was used.
“Nice night, doncha think, Jack?” Bert asked, slamming the trunk.
“Winter’s coming. I hate winter,” Jack said, opening the door.
Down the block a car stopped, the headlights off. Erin Powell watched as Bert opened his trunk and took out a bag. “Well, well, what have we here?”
Bert turned around in the open doorway, then lifted his arm and waved in Erin’s direction. “You knew she was back there, right?”
“Oh, yeah. This will give her something else to spin her wheels about.”
When Erin saw Bert wave at her before the door closed, she wanted to spit. Instead, she banged her head on the steering wheel. I must be a piss-poor excuse for a federal agent.
There was no one around to dispute her assessment.
Chapter 10
I t was four minutes past eight on November 1 when Lizzie Fox climbed out of a sleek black town car in front of the Hoover Building and told the driver to wait. She shrugged her elegant shoulders, gave a slight tug to a clingy skirt that could have been fitted into her ear if she was short of closet space.
Ted Robinson, with Joe Espinosa at his side, gawked at the ravishing woman walking toward them. Long legs that went all the way to her throat, Betty Grable legs if you were from a certain lascivious era, deep cleavage, a tan that was so perfect it had to have come from a tanning bed. Ted just knew the tan was a full -body tan. The luxurious mane of silvery hair was piled high on her head, making her five-eleven height even more impressive. The makeup she wore was so flawless as to be indistinguishable. She wore enough bling to light up a dark night.
“Now that’s one fine, Goddamn good-lookin’ woman,” Espinosa muttered under his breath. “What the hell is she doing here at this hour of the morning, do you suppose?”
Ted laughed, an unholy sound.
Ted and Joe weren’t the only ones admiring the long-legged beauty. People stopped, moved out of the way, then turned to watch the lithe figure cross the open area to the front door of the Hoover Building.
Ted jumped in front of her, and said, “Hey, Lizzie, remember me? Can I have a few words with you?”
Lizzie slowly and deliberately looked Ted over like he was a worm on a stick, one she was going to shake to the ground and stomp on. Instead, she smiled, stepped to the side, and offered up a dazzling smile that had made more than one sitting judge rule in her favor. “Anything for the press. Make sure you get me full face. I don’t like side shots.”
“Absolutely,” Espinosa leered, as he focused the camera.
“So whatcha doing here, Lizzie?”
Lizzie offered up another dazzling smile. “Actually, Mr. Robinson, I was invited here this morning.” She looked around, then up at the sky. “Do you think it’s going to rain today? And here I am without an umbrella.”
“Who invited you?” Ted asked as he flicked the small recorder into the ON position.
“Some…person…I can’t seem to remember her name. Emily, Emma, something like that.”
“Erin Powell?” Ted volunteered.
“Something like that. Whatever…”
“Why?” Ted asked bluntly.
Lizzie wagged a playful finger under Ted’s nose. “Now you know I can’t be telling you things like that,” she drawled.
“Does this command invitation have anything to do with the fracas that went down here last night?”
Lizzie winked and smiled.
“You got anything to eat in there? I’m not talking about those weeds you call vegetables. Man food.”
“Got tons of frozen dinners and some leftover Chinese. Fridge full of beer.”
“Then I’m your man. Let me get my go-bag out of the trunk.”
The go-bag was a bag of supplies most agents kept in their cars in case they were directed to hop a plane or train on the spur of the moment. The bag contained shaving gear, clean underwear, and several shirts, along with a warm-up suit. The trick was to remember to repack the bag once it was used.
“Nice night, doncha think, Jack?” Bert asked, slamming the trunk.
“Winter’s coming. I hate winter,” Jack said, opening the door.
Down the block a car stopped, the headlights off. Erin Powell watched as Bert opened his trunk and took out a bag. “Well, well, what have we here?”
Bert turned around in the open doorway, then lifted his arm and waved in Erin’s direction. “You knew she was back there, right?”
“Oh, yeah. This will give her something else to spin her wheels about.”
When Erin saw Bert wave at her before the door closed, she wanted to spit. Instead, she banged her head on the steering wheel. I must be a piss-poor excuse for a federal agent.
There was no one around to dispute her assessment.
Chapter 10
I t was four minutes past eight on November 1 when Lizzie Fox climbed out of a sleek black town car in front of the Hoover Building and told the driver to wait. She shrugged her elegant shoulders, gave a slight tug to a clingy skirt that could have been fitted into her ear if she was short of closet space.
Ted Robinson, with Joe Espinosa at his side, gawked at the ravishing woman walking toward them. Long legs that went all the way to her throat, Betty Grable legs if you were from a certain lascivious era, deep cleavage, a tan that was so perfect it had to have come from a tanning bed. Ted just knew the tan was a full -body tan. The luxurious mane of silvery hair was piled high on her head, making her five-eleven height even more impressive. The makeup she wore was so flawless as to be indistinguishable. She wore enough bling to light up a dark night.
“Now that’s one fine, Goddamn good-lookin’ woman,” Espinosa muttered under his breath. “What the hell is she doing here at this hour of the morning, do you suppose?”
Ted laughed, an unholy sound.
Ted and Joe weren’t the only ones admiring the long-legged beauty. People stopped, moved out of the way, then turned to watch the lithe figure cross the open area to the front door of the Hoover Building.
Ted jumped in front of her, and said, “Hey, Lizzie, remember me? Can I have a few words with you?”
Lizzie slowly and deliberately looked Ted over like he was a worm on a stick, one she was going to shake to the ground and stomp on. Instead, she smiled, stepped to the side, and offered up a dazzling smile that had made more than one sitting judge rule in her favor. “Anything for the press. Make sure you get me full face. I don’t like side shots.”
“Absolutely,” Espinosa leered, as he focused the camera.
“So whatcha doing here, Lizzie?”
Lizzie offered up another dazzling smile. “Actually, Mr. Robinson, I was invited here this morning.” She looked around, then up at the sky. “Do you think it’s going to rain today? And here I am without an umbrella.”
“Who invited you?” Ted asked as he flicked the small recorder into the ON position.
“Some…person…I can’t seem to remember her name. Emily, Emma, something like that.”
“Erin Powell?” Ted volunteered.
“Something like that. Whatever…”
“Why?” Ted asked bluntly.
Lizzie wagged a playful finger under Ted’s nose. “Now you know I can’t be telling you things like that,” she drawled.
“Does this command invitation have anything to do with the fracas that went down here last night?”
Lizzie winked and smiled.
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