CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Director Walter Sloan of the Malta section of the FBI sat quietly in his office. He was in his fifties but didn’t, look it. The Malta weather seemed to agree with him. He was of average height but an ego to rise above all else – way, above. He wore a brown cotton suit with a white short-sleeve shirt and blue clip-on tie. His brown Oxford shoes were highly polished, mostly with the help of the machine in the lobby. It was one of those automatic jobs that cleaned and polished your shoes while you still wore them.
Ingenious.
The embassy had installed it to stop people from treading dust into the carpets. Still, it also gave an excellent impression to visitors. Taxpayers money well spent.
Sloan’s office was a twenty by twenty feet box, with a large window to the left, a
