different.”
Harvath tossed his garment bag with his other clothes into her trunk and then got in the passenger seat. “Where are we going?”
“Mr. Carlton is waiting for you downtown,” she said, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot.
“Where exactly?”
“C Street between 22nd and 21st.”
Harvath pulled up the location in his mind’s eye. “The State Department?”
“No,” said Ashby. “Across the street. The Einstein Memorial.”
“Any idea why?”
“I don’t know. Have you done anything so stupid recently that he’d want to beat you to death in front of a statue of Albert Einstein as a lesson to the rest of us?”
Harvath laughed. It was true. The Old Man didn’t suffer fools lightly and he was taken to making examples of smart people who made dumb decisions or did stupid things.
Sloane took her eyes off the road to look at him. “You’re actually running through your mind what you’ve done lately, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not.”
“The hell you aren’t. I was pulling your leg and you actually think it’s a possibility.”
Harvath dismissed her with a wave. “Pay attention to the road.”
“What a fitting end that would be,” she replied, ignoring him. “Beaten to death at the feet of Albert Einstein for being a frickin’ moron.”
“Why don’t we find something else to talk about?” he offered.
“Like what?” she asked as they merged onto the road for D.C.
“I don’t care. Regale me,” Harvath replied, adding, “As long as it’s not about shopping, your girlfriends, or your love life.”
“If you wanted to ride in silence, why didn’t you just say so?”
She was pulling his leg. “Fine,” he said. “You pretend to be interesting and I’ll pretend to care. Sound good?”
Ashby smiled. “Aren’t we just like an old married couple? And by old married couple, I mean a couple where some young hot girl hooks up with some really old guy only because he’s filthy rich and she knows he’s going to die at any moment now.”
Harvath shook his head and leaned the seat way back like he was going to sleep. When she reached out and slapped him across the chest, he relented and told her to pick a topic.
She raised a few of the current problems their organization was having and how they might fix them, and despite their capacity for verbal jabs, the rest of the drive resulted in an excellent conversation.
CHAPTER 7
A fter conducting a circuitous surveillance detection route, also known as an SDR, Ashby pulled up in front of the Albert Einstein memorial and wished Harvath good luck.
“And by the way,” she said, as he got out of the car and was about to shut the door, “if the boss does decide to kill you, do you think it would be okay if I took your parking space back at the office?”
“Here’s a tip,” he said as he leaned back into the car. “The only nutcrackers men actually enjoy are the ones you see at Christmastime. Keep that in mind and you might find a husband someday.”
Ashby mimicked a massive overbite and replied, “Do you think I’ll get a purty man? I sure do hope so.”
Harvath shook his head and closed the door to the sound of the young woman laughing at her own joke. Wiseass, he smirked to himself. That sense of humor was going to get her into trouble. He wished he could save her some future heartache, but if she was anything like him, she was going to have to learn the hard way.
He spotted the Old Man sitting on one of the far benches and madea loop around the memorial, taking everything and everyone in before deciding it was safe to approach his boss and sit down.
“You sure took your time,” Carlton snapped. “I’ve been sitting here like a moron for over forty-five minutes feeding the damn pigeons.”
“I’m fine,” Harvath replied. “Thank you for asking, sir.”
“Don’t be a smart aleck. What’s with that shirt? All of your white ones at the cleaners?”
Reed Carlton put the “old” in old
Harvath tossed his garment bag with his other clothes into her trunk and then got in the passenger seat. “Where are we going?”
“Mr. Carlton is waiting for you downtown,” she said, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot.
“Where exactly?”
“C Street between 22nd and 21st.”
Harvath pulled up the location in his mind’s eye. “The State Department?”
“No,” said Ashby. “Across the street. The Einstein Memorial.”
“Any idea why?”
“I don’t know. Have you done anything so stupid recently that he’d want to beat you to death in front of a statue of Albert Einstein as a lesson to the rest of us?”
Harvath laughed. It was true. The Old Man didn’t suffer fools lightly and he was taken to making examples of smart people who made dumb decisions or did stupid things.
Sloane took her eyes off the road to look at him. “You’re actually running through your mind what you’ve done lately, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not.”
“The hell you aren’t. I was pulling your leg and you actually think it’s a possibility.”
Harvath dismissed her with a wave. “Pay attention to the road.”
“What a fitting end that would be,” she replied, ignoring him. “Beaten to death at the feet of Albert Einstein for being a frickin’ moron.”
“Why don’t we find something else to talk about?” he offered.
“Like what?” she asked as they merged onto the road for D.C.
“I don’t care. Regale me,” Harvath replied, adding, “As long as it’s not about shopping, your girlfriends, or your love life.”
“If you wanted to ride in silence, why didn’t you just say so?”
She was pulling his leg. “Fine,” he said. “You pretend to be interesting and I’ll pretend to care. Sound good?”
Ashby smiled. “Aren’t we just like an old married couple? And by old married couple, I mean a couple where some young hot girl hooks up with some really old guy only because he’s filthy rich and she knows he’s going to die at any moment now.”
Harvath shook his head and leaned the seat way back like he was going to sleep. When she reached out and slapped him across the chest, he relented and told her to pick a topic.
She raised a few of the current problems their organization was having and how they might fix them, and despite their capacity for verbal jabs, the rest of the drive resulted in an excellent conversation.
CHAPTER 7
A fter conducting a circuitous surveillance detection route, also known as an SDR, Ashby pulled up in front of the Albert Einstein memorial and wished Harvath good luck.
“And by the way,” she said, as he got out of the car and was about to shut the door, “if the boss does decide to kill you, do you think it would be okay if I took your parking space back at the office?”
“Here’s a tip,” he said as he leaned back into the car. “The only nutcrackers men actually enjoy are the ones you see at Christmastime. Keep that in mind and you might find a husband someday.”
Ashby mimicked a massive overbite and replied, “Do you think I’ll get a purty man? I sure do hope so.”
Harvath shook his head and closed the door to the sound of the young woman laughing at her own joke. Wiseass, he smirked to himself. That sense of humor was going to get her into trouble. He wished he could save her some future heartache, but if she was anything like him, she was going to have to learn the hard way.
He spotted the Old Man sitting on one of the far benches and madea loop around the memorial, taking everything and everyone in before deciding it was safe to approach his boss and sit down.
“You sure took your time,” Carlton snapped. “I’ve been sitting here like a moron for over forty-five minutes feeding the damn pigeons.”
“I’m fine,” Harvath replied. “Thank you for asking, sir.”
“Don’t be a smart aleck. What’s with that shirt? All of your white ones at the cleaners?”
Reed Carlton put the “old” in old
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