Chapter 3

* * * *

It was after 9:00 p.m. when I walked into the Dolley Madison Room. It was crowded with spooks and the men and women who were married to or dated them.

In spite of what The Boss had said, I’d taken the time not only to tack back my ears, but to plump up my cheeks with gauze rolls so they appeared rounder and less angular, and to glue the ugliest mole I could find high on my cheekbone. That was guaranteed to draw attention, and everyone would be so fixated on it they wouldn’t take much notice of anything else about me.

I’d also taken some time to bone up on the officers who worked out of the CIA’s Vienna office.

“Champagne, sir?” A waiter stood at my elbow.

“Not right now, thanks.” There was that reaction I had to champagne; I didn’t see anyone at this party I’d fuck with a borrowed dick, even if The Boss pushed and Holmes got blamed for it. “Where’s the open bar?”

“Just at the end of the room. And the buffet is next door.”