Mr. Wallace thumbed off the phone and returned it to me. “Meet Mr. Vincent at the DC morgue. I needn’t tell you to assist in any way possible, need I?”
“No, sir.”
“Excellent. Now, go.”
I stopped at my office to shrug into my shoulder holster and retrieve my overcoat and the keys to the company car, a Dodge I had been assigned when I was first recruited. It was a good car, with more packed under the hood than the exterior indicated, and the WBIS mechanics kept it in tip-top shape. Then I headed down to the parking garage.
I’d been to the morgue only too recently, having been summoned there to identify my friend’s body.
Traffic was light, and I reached the depressing building to find I was there ahead of my trainer.
It had been a long day, but it wasn’t over by half.
* * * *
Mann’s D
