He hadn’t come up with a good excuse to get out of Gilbow’s party. Flu? Nope. Sprained ankle? He could make that happen, but probably shouldn’t. Food poisoning? Tempting, but no. It wasn’t as bad as being trapped like the rats in the Parkhurst psych lab cages, but close.
couldMoney and power swarmed into the District each workday morning, then swarmed back at night. Many of those commuters lived in neighborhoods like the one Drayco was currently navigating in North Arlington. Areas within D.C.’s borders—the Harbour, Kalorama, Georgetown—could match the price tags of these mini-castles. But on this side of the river, you got a lot more real estate. And the privacy that went with it.
He continued north on Chain Bridge Road toward the Gilbow residence, through a set of gates, up a snaking d
