CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
7:48 p.m. Eastern Standard Time
34th Floor
The Willard Intercontinental Hotel, Washington DC
The bedroom was very large, with a gigantic California king–sized bed and a girl draped across it. The stone floors were cool on his bare feet. The room’s windows faced the lit up Capitol Building. Wide double doors gave out onto a private balcony.
Room service had left him a cart on rollers with a bottle of spirits, as well as a bottle each of red and white wine. Also, there were some finger sandwiches, a pitcher of water, and a bucket of ice. He barely glanced at the wines or the sandwiches. The spirits were Glenfiddich thirty-year-old scotch, so that was good news. He poured three fingers’ worth into a glass, without ice or water, and sipped it, enjoying the taste and the
