CHAPTER 29That night, after scattered minutes of uneasy sleep, Agents Henry and Gold positioned themselves in the coffee table chairs facing the door and window. Conversation came with difficulty, now, as each pondered personal matters—memories, regrets. Occasionally, one would glance at the partner, tempted to share a feeling that protocol would not allow.
On this night, they waited in a different room, stifling yawns, inspecting their weapons. A digital clock read four thirteen am.
For the first time in over an hour Amy Gold broke the silence. "I've been meaning to ask you, Bill: why room nine, instead of the last one?"
Henry cleared his throat. "Too easy to get us in a cross fire. We'd have no chance, then."
After a pause, Amy muttered, "Maybe they're not coming."
At that moment th
