Mark narrowed his gaze at me. “That sounds hinky.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “That’s what I said.” I took a sip of wine and went on to explain the situation.
Mark listened, shredding his piece of bread and dropping the crumbs into the stew. When I finished talking, he said, “So what you’re telling me is that they want you to fly out to LA, liaise with Drum, and find the Gettysburg Address.”
“Yes.”
“Why? Why you?” he specified.
He wasn’t going to like hearing this.
“Kirkpatrick learned Drum called me before he left DC.”
“Oh, yeah?” Mark’s tone was definitely on edge. “How?” The expression on his face told me he already had a suspicion.
“The only answer I can come up with is my landline was bugged.” I frowned as I remembered how Mark had done such a discreet job of setting up surveil
