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power within the agency one day.
    â€œHey, Luth,” said Frank. Luther hated being called “Luth.” It was an asinine nickname, but that was Frank’s way, always too damned friendly.
    â€œHey, Hedge,” said Luther, remembering Frank’s E-1 academy name.
    â€œBack in the old U.S., huh?” said Frank.
    â€œYes, good to be back.”
    Thomas had been standing nearby through all of this. Luther shot him a glare, and Thomas scampered off to his desk.
    Luther turned back to Frank, who was looking cocky and smug as usual. Luther was sure mat Frank wanted to brag to him about something.
    â€œSo what you been up to?” asked Luther.
    â€œNothing much,” said Frank. “Hey, did you hear about the Terrorism Task Force in South America? It was coordinated to foster U.S. antiterrorist policies. Some radical political leader opposed it, but he died a month before.”
    Luther knew in an instant that Frank had headed up that effort and taken out the leader. An agent didn’t speak directly of his prior missions. He talked about them as if they were news stories.
    Frank’s father was a congressman from New York, an ex-military and ex-FBI agent, and his mother was, of all things, an ex-marine. They’d gotten rich working for military suppliers after retiring from the service. They’d brought young Frank into the fold as a full-fledged government blueblood.
    â€œGreat. Well, I gotta go. Nice seeing you, Frank.”
    â€œListen, there are three of us here now. Let’s go out and have some fun.”
    Luther glanced at the big map and saw the three gold buttons in Virginia.
    â€œWho’s the third?” asked Luther.
    â€œBane,” said Frank, and then he smiled knowingly.
    â€œI’ll take you up on that,” said Luther. He really didn’t want to hang out with Frank, but he did like Sharon Bane, and he hadn’t seen her in ages. “Where are we meeting?”
    â€œX Club,” said Frank.
    â€œIt’s a meat market.”
    â€œWell, I’m feeling carnivorous today,” said Frank.
    Luther smiled and walked out of the director’s office. He felt Frank bore holes in his back as he did. He moved into the elevator lobby. There was something on his mind as he got into an elevator and made his way out of E-1. The thought stayed with himas he went through an exit security check. Kilmer wanted to make sure you were the same person leaving as you were when you came in.
    Luther walked into the bright sunshine as the nagging notion pulled itself out of that pool of doubt that lay beyond his loyalty to his superiors. He’d kept this feeling at bay while he was talking to Kilmer and the others at E-1. Agents were too adept at reading people, and what he was thinking was dangerous at this juncture of the mission.
    Information, he said to himself.
    Kilmer had said that Deavers had executed his E-1 assignment, killed the target, and later killed Gorman and escaped “in possession of that information, too.” Then Kilmer’s brow had furrowed and his eyes had widened as if he’d made a mistake saying the sentence. The word “too” suggested that there was additional information in Alex’s possession. If that were true, why hadn’t Kilmer said anything about it? Was it information from Deavers’s E-1 assignment? Was it just a poor use of words?
    These were troubling questions, thought Luther, as troubling as the prospect of killing Alex Deavers.

The Hookup
    Luther got into his car and drove away from the facility. It was a mild spring day, and he couldn’t remember seeing a more beautiful one. When summer set in, it would get hot and sticky in the D.C. area, and he’d want to be anywhere but here.
    Luther didn’t head straight home. He went to a nearby mall, where he did some light shopping. He delighted some kids in an arcade while playing a shooting game called House of 1,000 Corpses, where he