30 MarianneMarianne stepped from the dull fluorescent-lit basement corridor through an unobtrusive door and felt a sudden zap of high political voltage. Tucked away beneath a luxurious Georgetown high-rise hotel, this breakfast-only eatery catered to well-heeled locals who liked to conduct their business early with no office staff watching.
She spotted her quarry at a corner table and strode toward him, waving away the elegant Asian-looking hostess. Her black pumps tapped silently across the thick carpet and she made her way easily between tables draped in white linen and supported by slender cherrywood legs. Each sat at least five feet from its nearest neighbors.
All the tables were occupied by Washington DC’s movers and shakers, their soft-voiced conversations like the hum of a distant
