"Jesus, Ned. It's like waiting for a hurricane to happen right here in DC."

"More like running after one – looking for trouble," he said. "A real category-five shitstorm. Don't you just love Washington?"

"Actually, I do. Just not right at this minute."

"So listen, Alex." His voice went serious again. "The Bureau's all over this. It's about to go pop. I'd totally understand if you want to back off, and if you do, now would be a good time. Just hand the envelope full of goodies back."

I was a little surprised by the offer. I thought Ned knew me a lot better than that. Which meant, of course, that his offer carried a serious warning.

"Does that mean you're ready to hit the club out in Virginia?" I asked him.

"I'm waiting on the ex parte right now."

"And?"

Ned grinned, and if I'm not mistaken, he looked just a little relieved. "And you should probably leave your phone on when you go home tonight. I'll be calling."

THE GOD NEWS was I got to have a nice dinner with the family. I even got to spend some time hanging out with the kids afterward, just before all hell would probably break loose, probably like nothing I'd ever experienced before. It all depended on who was at that private club tonight.

Jannie had been teaching Ali to play Sorry, one of the most boring games in the universe, but I liked playing just about anything with the two of them. I goofed around between my turns, stealing pieces off the board and telling old jokes to Ali. Things like "Why is six afraid of seven?"

"Because seven ate nine!" Jannie cackled. She loved to be the spoiler, and Ali was a perfect audience. The boy just loves to laugh. He's the least serious of my three kids by far.

Nana sat off to the side, watching us over the top of A Thousand Splendid Suns, one of the books she'd been tearing through these days. She and Bree had settled into a tentative partnership, with Bree slowly asserting herself around the house and Nana learning she could afford to let go of a few things she'd always controlled – like how to load the dishwasher.

It was all good – until the phone rang.

Usually, I expect the kids to put up an immediate stink when that happens. "Don't answer it, Daddy" had become a common refrain around our house. So when both of them just looked away, waiting for the inevitable, I felt even worse.

I checked the ID. It was Mahoney. As promised.

"I'm sorry; I really do have to take this," I said to Ali and Jannie.

Their silence was loud and clear as I went out to the hall to answer.

"Ned?"

"We're a go, Alex. There's a Holiday Inn off Exit 72 in Arlington. I can meet you in the parking lot if you come now. Right now."

IT WAS CALLED Operation Coitus Interruptus, which only goes to prove that there are some people in the FBI with a sense of humor.

Ned's full team had convened at a small farm in Culpeper County, about an hour and a half west of DC and not far from Shenandoah National Park. It was a strange, foreboding mix: Mahoney and his co-case agent, Renee Victor; six HRT agents; three crisis negotiators from the Tactical Support Branch; and a ten-man FBI SWAT team.

I'd been expecting an all-HRT team, but I wasn't concerned in the least. FBI SWAT has some of the best tactical units in the world. This was going to be quite a show.

There was also a rep from Virginia State Police, who had two collection wagons on standby, and me. I'm not sure what strings Ned had to pull to have me there, but I appreciated it, and also knew that he figured I would add value. We all gathered around the tailgate of someone's pickup for a quick briefing from the big guy.

"There will be some heavy hitters inside, but for us, it's going to be SOP all around," Ned told the group. "I want SWAT in first, then agents, and I want all exits secure at all times. You should be prepared for any scenario, including sexual situations and even violent resistance. I'm not expecting the latter, but it's possible; anything is. The idea is to work fast and safe, and to clear this place out as cleanly as we can."

Surveillance showed that the main house had entrances on the north, south, and east sides. Mahoney divided us into three units accordingly. I'd be going in the front door with him. There were also several outbuildings, which were supposed to be empty, at least tonight. I couldn't help wondering about the kind of parties held in them.

Before we left, Ned gave me an FBI jacket and a new Aramid vest from the back of his car. The vest was lighter than anything I'd used before, which was okay, since we were hiking in from a couple of miles away.

It took forty-five minutes to get there through pretty thick woods and brush. After the first mile or so, we switched to night vision only, those with goggles leading those without.

All conversation dropped off at that point, except for the occasional radio exchange between Mahoney and the SWAT commander.

The main house came up quickly over a steep rise, all three stories of it. We hung just out of sight, about seventy-five yards off the front. Ned sent SWAT out to do a quick three sixty, and I borrowed a pair of binoculars for a better look while we waited for the action to start.

It was a really large limestone mansion; there's no other word for it. And the driveway was a virtual car show tonight – Mercedes, Rolls, Bentley, even a vintage Lamborghini and a red Ferrari.

Tall mullioned windows ran along the first floor, which was well lit inside, but there were no people that I could see. Presumably, the action was taking place upstairs, where all the windows were dark or at least shaded.

Was this where Caroline had been killed? The thought came over me like a shroud. Was it also where her body had been so horribly desecrated? For that matter, were we about to crack open somebody's butcher shop or just a rich man's playground? It was a strange feeling to have no idea what to expect.

Word finally came back to Mahoney. I couldn't hear anything from his headset, but it looked like the main event was about to happen. He radioed a standby to the other units, which had spread out around the property, and then gave me that gallows humor grin of his.

"You ready for Coitus Interruptus?"

"As I'll ever be," I said.

"Here we go, then. Should be a gas." He went back to his headset and counted off. "All units, on the ready. Don't hurt anybody; don't get hurt."

A few seconds later, SWAT was out of the woods with the rest of us just behind, sprinting toward the impressive house of ill repute.

AN EXPENSIVE-LOOKING WALNUT front door splintered and then gave way. SWAT was inside with no difficulty. I had my Glock out, hoping I wouldn't have to use it. The last time Ned and I had worked together, we'd both been shot.

Not this time, I hoped. This was white-collar crime, wasn't it? As soon as we got the "all clear" from SWAT, Ned left two men at the door, then led everyone else inside.

My first impression was just, well, money.

The foyer was three stories high, with a checkerboard marble floor and huge chandeliers dangling like outrageous jewels overhead. The furniture was gleaming antiques, and there was something odd about the light. It looked like gold in here.

The second impression I got was of stunningly beautiful women – a lot of them – some in evening gowns, others in various stages of undress. Three were naked and not being very shy about it, hands on their hips like we'd just busted into an apartment they all shared.

The escorts, expensive ones. From clean-cut all-American to exotic Far Eastern.