He must’ve parked in the underground garage.
She walked over to the front desk. “Excuse me,” she asked a clerk. “Is there parking underground?”
“No,” the employee replied. “We have the lot next to the building, and there’s street parking.”
After shouldering into her jacket, she made her way through the lobby. As she approached the exit, someone entered through the revolving door. She glanced over, did a double take, then turned away.
Ohmygod.
Keeping her head down, she reversed direction, then lasered-in on her target. Jerod strode to the elevators, tapped the up button. Elevator doors opened and he vanished inside.
As the elevator ascended, Simone murmured, “What the fucking fuck.”
19
ONE STEP AT A TIME
LUCIANO
After Stuart pulled up in front of the State Department, Sin handed Luciano a badge.
“Looks legit.” Luciano read the name—Malvagio Peccatore—and laughed. In Italian, his name meant Wicked Sinner.
“And I work for the FBI. That’s irony.” Luciano glanced at Stuart’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “Stuart, I’ll text you on the way out.”
“I’ll park around the corner.” His driver opened Luciano’s door and both men exited the Range Rover.
They made their way through security without issue.
“How’d you do it?” Luciano asked as they walked to the elevator. “Malvagio Peccatore doesn’t exist.”
“Sure he does,” Sin replied. “Check the system, you’ll see he’s there. I gave you a hella title too. It’s equivalent to King of the Universe.”
“I knew I liked you for a reason.”
They rode the elevator to the fourth floor, entered the Bureau of Consular Affairs, stopping at reception.
“Sinclair Develin and Malvagio Peccatore for Cary Newburg,” Sin said.
The woman slid her gaze from one man to the other and color flooded her cheeks. With her eyes locked on Luciano, she made a call. When finished, she said to Sin, “Mr. Newburg is in a meeting.”
“It’s about Guy Chenkus,” Sin said.
The men stepped away from the desk, and the receptionist made another call. Seconds later, she said, “Someone will be right out.”
Of course someone will be right out.
A different woman bustled over, escorted them through the department and over to a small waiting area near a corner office. “Mr. Newburg is finishing a call.” She returned to her seat and popped a piece of chocolate into her mouth.
A moment later, the door opened. A pudgy man wearing a hideous light gray suit exited his office. He eyed both men. “Cary Newburg.”
After he shook his hand, Luciano wanted to wipe the dampness off, but he sure as hell wasn’t using his suit for that.
Mr. Newburg ushered them into his office. “What can I help you with today?”
After Luciano sat, he stuck a micro listening device to the underside of the guest chair as Mr. Newburg hollered for his assistant to come in and take notes.
“No,” Luciano said, the smell of mildew turning his stomach.
