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nature of his job had to associate with them.
    It was a bunch of bullshit, but he played the game.
    The situation with Morgan Yancy was worrisome—not because of the threat to Morgan’s life, though he would hate to lose such a skilled operative—but because the GO-Teams computer system had been hacked. Their missions were highly classified and extremely sensitive politically.
    He had to move very cautiously; if he was too obvious, he might frighten off his prey. If he wasn’t obvious enough, the wrong conclusions could be drawn and the bait ignored. That was why he dropped a few tidbits of information here and there, but never much at any one time, and sometimes he didn’t say anything at all.
    A few days after talking to Morgan and laying out the basics of the plan, he managed to maneuver himself into position at one of D.C.’s endless parties, where Congresswoman Joan Kingsley was in attendance. Her husband, Dexter, was absent, but she had navigated the capital’s social waters for so long that she was perfectly comfortable on her own. As politicians went, she was very likable—even to him, and he didn’t like anyone. He tolerated her much better than he did a lot of others, though he never let himself forget that she was a politician first and an ally second, even if Morgan’s team had saved her son’s ass. Gratitude went only so far in D.C.
    Inevitably, she and her husband were both on the list of suspects. They’d had contact with Morgan that day. Maybe she was clear and her husband wasn’t, or vice versa. Maybe they were both clear, or both guilty—he didn’t give them the benefit of the doubt because he didn’t know and therefore assumed they were both guilty. Regardless, Congresswoman Kingsley had contacts and avenues of information, both going and coming, that he himself didn’t have, and she was a good conduit for getting out the word that he wanted out.
    He didn’t approach her, though she was very easy to spot with that striking white hair. She made a practiced circuit of the crowded room, chatting with everyone, smiling the warm smile that charmed almost everyone she met. Axel was immune to charm. He started every dayassuming most people were up to no good and the others simply hadn’t thought of it yet.
    At one point he lost sight of her—though he was careful not to let her know he was watching—but she reappeared in about ten minutes with freshly applied lipstick, so his best guess was a trip to the ladies’ room. She could also have been meeting a lover, exchanging information, or making a private call. Without any evidence to the contrary, though, he was going with the ladies’ room theory.
    They were an hour and a half into the party when their circuitous routes around the room brought them together. He tilted his glass toward her in acknowledgment but didn’t interrupt his current conversation with a senator’s aide even though it was deadly boring and he’d have liked to cram a pair of dirty socks down the pompous jackass’s throat. Let her come to him. He wasn’t approaching anyone.
    Finally the senator’s aide paused when he stopped a passing waiter to deposit his empty glass on the man’s tray. Congresswoman Kingsley smoothly slid in and said, “Hello, Karl, Axel.”
    â€œCongresswoman,” Axel replied in acknowledgment, and watched in amusement as the senator’s aide struggled with his ego and the pecking order on Capitol Hill. The congresswoman was an important personage, but Karl looked on the House as inferior to the Senate; therefore his position as chief aide to a senator should be superior to hers. Then his ego butted into the unfortunate fact that Congresswoman Kingsley had been elected—several times over—while he was a hired aide who hadn’t been elected to anything..
    â€œCongresswoman Kingsley,” Karl finally muttered, using her title