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Before Tom could introduce himself, the concierge said, “Mr Stiles, you are on the fifth floor, in room 504. Please make your way to your suite, sir, and I will ensure that your luggage is looked after. And do not hesitate to let me know if you would like any refreshments.”
Check-in done, Tom thought. Room 504 had a direct view of the White House. The suite comprised two bedrooms, each with an ensuite, a huge marble kitchen, and a lounge area with dark timber floorboards and a mixture of timber and leather furniture.
It was twenty past two. Sleep was out of the question. He opened the bar fridge and found a quart of Glenmorangie. He began to wonder if there was any part of his life that had not been scrutinised. Tom sat down and took a drink and then another. His life had been proces
