Christmas was chilly, although once again there was no snow.
Tony and Bryan had flown in from the West Coast, where they were living now. Earlier in the fall, Bryan had announced he’d had enough, he was retiring. And since he no longer had anything keeping him in Washington—he and Johanna had divorced in 1990, after both Mother and Father were gone, and he’d moved to a one-bedroom condo in Dupont Circle—he was moving to Los Angeles.
“But what will you do?”
“A friend is producing a TV show, CIA, and he’s asked me to be technical advisor.”
Shortly after Bryan’s announcement, Tony made one of his own—he was leaving the NSA and moving to the West Coast as well. “I have no desire to drop dead at my desk,” he informed us. “And besides, someone’s got to keep an eye on the sprout.” He slid an
