CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
10:45 a.m. Eastern Daylight Time
Washington DC
Ishmael arrived home on his tree-lined street with a bag of autumn produce from the local farmer’s market. He was in no hurry, and it was a nice day—sunny despite the cold. He moved slowly out of habit—he liked to give the impression that he was infirm, an old man who was no threat to anyone. Sometimes he even put on a slight limp.
“How’s the leg?” his neighbors would often ask him, especially when bad weather was in the forecast.
“Oh, you know,” he’d say. “Feels like we’re in for some rain.”
He went up the narrow stairs and into his apartment, still with lingering thoughts of the conversation he’d had with Luke. It was dangerous talk, of course. He wouldn’t consider sharing that type of information with anyone but L
