last letter he received. He remembered what it meant to get letters in Vietnam, to read words that had made a journey from hand to hand. It was immediate and intimate, like looking over someone's shoulder as they gave something of themselves. Opening an envelope that contained an offer for a 0 percent credit card or discount coupons from the local strip mall did not have the same effect.
Then something nearly as good happened. Rodgers got a call from Kat Lockley. She was not calling about business.
'I'm sorry I did not get to see you before,' she said. 'It was a very press-intensive day. And it's not over. We've got Nightline coming up.'
'I understand completely,' he said. 'Are you going with the senator to the Nightline broadcast?'
'Actually, I'm not. I had a meeting outside the office about the convention. He went with his attorney, David Rico. Dave had some concern about what Koppel might ask and wanted some ground rules about the homicide.'
'Understandable.'
'So, since I'm free, and since it looks like we're going to be working together, I was wondering if you felt like grabbing dinner or a snack or a drink,' she said.
'Actually, dinner is a good idea,' he replied. 'I didn't have time for lunch. Where are you?'
'In my car, on Delaware Avenue.'
Rodgers thought for a moment. 'How about Equinox, 818 Connecticut Avenue NW?'
'Perfect,' she said. 'American cuisine.'
'That's why I suggested it,' Rodgers said. 'I'll be there in thirty-five or forty minutes.'
'I'll be at the bar with a vodka martini,' she said. 'By the time you get there, it will be my second.'
'I hear that,' Rodgers said.
He hung up, left his own unfinished glass in the sink, snatched his jacket from the sofa, and headed out. The call from Kat was more healing than the Southern Comfort. It was reassuring to feel part of a team, especially when a woman was right there in the huddle. It occurred to him that he did not even know if she was married, engaged, dating, or straight. Right now, the camaraderie was more important.
The roads to D.C. were lightly trafficked, and Connecti cut Avenue NW was virtually empty. Rodgers made the drive in a half-hour flat. The dark bar was crowded with staffers from the White House, which was nearby, along with a cross section of Washington power brokers. Kat was at the end of the bar, talking to a slender, very attractive woman.
The woman was holding a small beaded purse in her left hand and a glass of red wine in her right.
'Mike, I'd like you to meet Lucy O'Connor,' Kat said as he approached.
It was loud in the bar, and Kat had to shout to be heard. No wonder nothing ever stayed a secret in Washington.
The woman put her drink on the bar. 'Delighted,' she said as she shook Rodgers's hand.
'Lucy writes about the Hill for the American Spectator and has a syndicated radio show,' Kat said. 'How many markets now?'
'Forty-seven,' she said.
'Impressive,' Rodgers said.
'Not compared to what you have done,' Lucy said.
Rodgers rolled a shoulder. 'I was in the wrong places at the right time.'
'A true hero, taciturn and modest,' Lucy remarked. 'But since you've very happily fallen in my lap, General Rodgers, tell me, in as few words as you like. Is Op-Center busy redefining its mission?'
'If having your budget whacked is redefining, I suppose the answer is yes,' Rodgers replied.
'I heard about the cuts, but that isn't what I meant. I'm talking about the Wilson investigation.'
