OBIE SAT IN HIS apartment in the dark.

Vance and a quartet of FBI agents were keeping watch over Julie. He had told the teenager about the Broomes’ murders. She had taken it stoically, hadn’t cried, but apparently just accepted it as a fact of life. Maybe that was worse, thought Robie. It didn’t seem right that a fourteen-year-old should have her emotions so hardened that violent death didn’t shock anymore.

He had come back here because he needed somewhere to go that didn’t involve other people being around. And though he had a room at the extended-stay residence, he had come back here instead. He wasn’t concerned about killers coming for him, at least not yet.

They want me alive, for something. And then they’ll want me dead.

He had strained his mind going back over missions he’d performed in the recent past. It would seem that in his line of work there would be many people who would want revenge against him, too many to plausibly investigate. But he had never failed on a task, and that meant his target always had died. And he had exited successfully each time, which meant that his identity should have remained a secret. But his handler had been turned, which meant that Robie had been exposed to anyone with the ability to pay.

He rose and looked out the window. It was two a.m. There were few cars moving down the street, no people. But then he caught sight of someone and he moved closer to the window for a better look.

Annie Lambert brought her bike to a stop outside the apartment building, got off, and rolled it into the lobby.

When she got off on her floor Robie was waiting for her. She looked surprised to see him, but then apparently noted the pain in his features.

“You okay?” she asked anxiously.

“Had better days. Long one for you, obviously?”

She smiled and struggled with her bag. Robie took it from her, slung it over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” she said. “I messed up today,” she admitted. “Had to work overtime to repair things.”

“What happened?”

“Blew official protocols. I bypassed my direct supervisor to get a question answered because my direct supervisor wasn’t around. Got called on the carpet for it.”

“That doesn’t seem right. In fact it seems fairly petty.”

“Well, when you don’t get paid much to handle important issues, folks stand more firmly on titles and lines of authority than maybe they should.”

“I think you’re being overly generous.”

“Maybe I’m just tired,” she said wearily.

“Here, I’ll help you to your door and you can get some sleep.”

As they walked down the hall she said, “You don’t seem too good either.”

“Like you, a long day.”

“Petty rules too?”

“A little different.”

“Life can suck sometimes,” said Lambert.

“Yes, it can.”

They reached her door. She turned to him. “When I said I was tired, I didn’t mean I needed to go to sleep. Would you like to come in for drink?”

“You sure you’re up for it?”

“We both look like we could use one. Nothing fancy like your wine. I can only afford beer.”

“Okay.”

They went inside. She put her bike away and pointed Robie to the kitchen, where he got out two beers and came back into the living room. He felt guilty that he knew the layout of her apartment from looking at it through the telescope.

It fit the image of a young government worker whose salary was in no way commensurate with her brains or ability. Everything was on the cheap, but Robie noted one oil painting of a harbor scene and a couple pieces of good-quality furniture that had probably come from Lambert’s parents.

When she came back out of her bedroom she wore loose-fitting jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her feet were bare. He handed her a beer and she plopped down in a chair and curled her feet up under her.

Robie sat opposite on a small faux leather love seat.

Lambert said, “Nice to get out of the professional armor.”

“Until tomorrow morning, which is almost here.”

“I actually have the day off tomorrow,” she said. “Or today, as you pointed out.” She took a sip of beer. Robie did the same.

“Why’s that?”

“The president is out of town with most of his personal staff. When he gets back there’s a big White House dinner. I have to work the event. So I’m going to enjoy my day off.”

“I would too.”

She smiled resignedly. “Especially since I’ve been working weekends for the past month. And staff morale is a little low.”

“Why’s that?”

“The president isn’t doing very well in the polls. The economy is awful. The next election is not shaping up to be easy or pleasant.”

“Country’s split right down the middle. No election is easy anymore.”

“True,” she said. “I could never be a politician. It just hurts too much, you know? Every second of every day someone is judging you. And not just for your positions on issues. But for how you talk, look, walk. It’s ridiculous.”

“So have you given any more thought to what life will look like for you after the White House?”

“I’m in a phase of life right now where I just take each day as it comes.”

“Not a bad thing, actually.”

“Some would call it lazy.”

“Who cares what some think?”

“Exactly.”

“Great minds think alike, in fact.”

She reached over and clinked his beer with hers. “To great minds.”

“To great minds,” he agreed with a grin.

“So is this officially our first date?”

“Technically I wouldn’t think so,” replied Robie. “It was more spontaneous. But we can make it anything we want. It’s a free country.”

“I really enjoyed drinks at the W.”

“First time I’ve done something like that in a while.”

“Me too.”

“At your age you should be out a lot.”

“Maybe I’m older than I look,” she teased.

“I doubt that.”

“I like you, Will. I like you a lot.”

“You don’t really know me yet.”

“I’m a good and quick judge of people. Always have been.” She paused, took a swig of beer. “You make me feel, I don’t know, good about myself.”

“You have a lot of reasons independent of me to feel good about yourself, Annie.”

She set her beer down. “Sometimes I get depressed.”

“Hell, we all do.”

She rose and sat down next to him. She touched Robie’s hand with hers. “I’ve had a couple of bad experiences with guys.”

“I promise you won’t have one with me.” Robie had no way to guarantee this, but as he said it he believed it to be the truth.

At the same moment they each leaned toward the other. Their lips touched gently. Then they drew apart,

When Lambert opened her eyes he was looking at her.

“Did you not like that?” she asked.

“No, I liked it a lot, actually.”

They kissed again.

“I’m a lot older than you,” he said as they pulled apart once more.

“You don’t seem a lot older.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

“Maybe we should do exactly what we both obviously want to do,” she murmured in his ear. They kissed once more. Not gently this time, but hungrily, both breathing hard.

Robie’s hand slipped to her thigh and he caressed it. She edged her arms around his back and squeezed. Her mouth touched his ear.

“The bedroom might be more comfortable.”

He rose, lifting her into the air as he did, and carried her to the bedroom door. She hit the door lever with her foot and pushed it open. Robie kicked the door shut behind them. They took their time disrobing each other.

She looked at his tats and scars and the wound on his arm. She lightly touched it. “Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore.”

“How did you do it?”

“It was just something stupid.” He pulled her to him.

A minute later they slid between the sheets, their clothes in a commingled pile on the floor.