Chapter 7

“In that case, I definitely haven’t heard. Why don’t you inform me?”

“He’s taken up golf!”

I bit down hard on my inner cheek to keep from laughing. “Seriously, Major? That’s hardly indicative of someone being a sociopath.”

He scowled at me. “He’s up to something—he has to be! Since when does a senior special agent of the WBIS golf?”

“If I recall correctly, Trevor Wallace golfs.”

“But he’s not a senior special agent!”

“If it comes to that, neither is Vincent. He’s Director of Interior Affairs.”

“What? When did this happen?”

“Last December.”

“Didn’t he have to be Deputy Director first?”

“The spring before that.” My cell phone rang, “Such a Night,” and I cursed myself for not putting it on vibrate.

“A lady friend calling?” Drum arched an eyebrow. “You want to take that, Mann?”

“Now that would be the height of rudeness.” I let the call go to voicemail.

“Self-righteous, arrogant bastard.”

“I’m cut to the quick.”