Holly finished her lunch with Harry Three without divulging any information about herself, but it wasn’t easy. Three would make a great interrogator, she thought.

AFTER LUNCH and a short walk with Daisy, Holly found her way to her next class. Only it wasn’t a class. She walked into an office, and a woman at a desk said, “Harry One? Sit down. You are scheduled for a polygraph at this time.”

Oh, shit, Holly thought.

WILL LEE STEPPED TO THE PODIUM in the White House press room. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I would like to announce that I have accepted the resignation of James Heller, director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, effective immediately. I have no further comment on his resignation. Mr. Heller will be making his own announcement later today.

“I am pleased to announce that I have appointed Robert Kinney as the new director of the FBI. Mr. Kinney began his law enforcement career with the New York City Police Department, where he established an outstanding investigative record and rose to the rank of detective lieutenant, before being recruited to the FBI fifteen years ago. There, he blazed a trail of successful investigations and held increasingly important administrative positions, most recently, that of deputy director for investigations. I have every confidence that Director Kinney will make great strides in preparing the Bureau for a bright new future as our nation’s premier law enforcement agency.

“I have one other announcement of importance. In furtherance of the rebuilding of our country’s national security, I will today send legislation to the Congress to remove the FBI from the Department of Justice and make it a freestanding agency, with the director reporting directly to the president. Mr. Kinney has time to take a few questions.”

Lee stepped aside, and Kinney approached the podium. He had been surprised and delighted by the president’s announcement. He wondered why the attorney general had not attended the meeting where he was appointed. He pointed at a woman reporter in the front row who looked vaguely familiar from television.

“Mr. Kinney, what progress has been made in the Theodore Fay case?”

“The search for wreckage of Mr. Fay’s airplane is just about over, and the Coast Guard has found, as we expected, only small pieces of the airplane.”

“Have you found Mr. Fay’s body?”

“We believe that it no longer exists as such,” Kinney replied. “The very powerful explosion would have had the same effect on Mr. Fay’s body as on the airplane itself.”

“Is there any chance that Mr. Fay got out of the airplane before the explosion?”

“Conversations with the two pilots pursuing Mr. Fay’s airplane have convinced us that he had no opportunity to escape the airplane before the explosion.”

“So the Fay case is now closed?”

“Except for follow-up and administrative details, yes.”

The questions continued for another five minutes before the president’s press secretary called a halt. The president walked Kinney to the White House portico and his car.

“Your announcement came as a surprise to me,” Kinney said.

“We’ve been working in-house for months on that move,” Lee said, “and we’ve played it pretty close to our vests. The attorney general isn’t particularly happy about it, of course, but he understands the need to elevate the Bureau to agency status. And, of course, it will give you a freer hand.”

The two men shook hands, and Kinney got into his car, reaching for his cell phone.

“There’s a better phone in your armrest, sir,” the driver said. “And by the way, this is now your official car. We dropped Mr. Heller at his home half an hour ago. I’m Agent Tom Murray.”

“Good to meet you, Tom,” Kinney said, reaching for the phone. He called his home, and Nancy Kimball answered.

“I saw you on TV,” she said immediately.

“Damn, I wanted to tell you myself.”

“This is a great day.”

“You bet it is. Why don’t you work on the details of getting us married as soon as possible, and I’ll book us a table somewhere spectacular for dinner tonight.”

“Will do,” she said,

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He hung up, and the car continued to the Hoover Building. As Kinney left the car he was approached by a man in a blue suit, showing an I.D. card.

“Good morning, Director Kinney,” he said. “I am Agent Marvin Green of the United States Secret Service, and I will be in charge of your security detail.”

Kinney shook the man’s hand but was puzzled. “Since when does the director of the FBI get Secret Service protection?” he asked.

“Since right now, sir, by order of the president. Your elevator is waiting.”

Kinney was shown to the director’s private elevator, and Green and two other agents rode with him. “I need to stop by my office,” Kinney said.

“We’re going directly to your new office, sir,” Green said. “Your secretary has already supervised the removal of your effects from your old office.”

Kinney stepped out of the elevator to a round of applause from dozens of agents and clerical workers. He quieted them. “Thank you very much,” he said. “Have all you people been watching television when you should have been working?” Everybody laughed. “Get back to work; you’ll be hearing from me.” Helen, his secretary, was sitting at a desk in his new suite of offices, and Kerry Smith was waiting for him.

The three secretaries stood and applauded, and Kerry shook his hand.

“Come in, Kerry,” Kinney said. “I’m appointing you chief assistant to the director.”

“Thank you, sir,” Smith said.

“You can still call me Bob when nobody’s around.” Kinney set his briefcase on his new desk and looked around. A large conference table was at the other end of the big office, and it was filled with many objects wrapped in plastic.

“What the hell is all that?” Kinney asked.

“It’s the wreckage of Teddy Fay’s airplane,” Kinney said.

“What’s it doing here?”

“I want you to see it personally.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s something very odd about it.”

Kinney didn’t like the sound of that.

HOLLY CALMED HESELF, taking deep, regular breaths. She had taken a polygraph before, in the army. She had even attended a class where she learned to administer them. She forced herself not to think about the money in the Grand Cayman bank account or the credit card in her purse. She was not able to prevent herself thinking about the statement she had signed, under penalty of perjury, that she had divulged all her financial information.

A man opened a door and beckoned her inside a small room. A woman was sitting in a chair next to the machine, and a large mirror was built into one wall. Holly assumed that this was a one-way mirror that allowed others to monitor her performance.

“Please remove your upper body clothing down to your bra and sit down,” the woman said.

Holly pulled off the sweatshirt she was wearing and sat down facing the mirror.

“You are here to take a polygraph examination. Have you ever had a polygraph before?”

“Yes, once, in the military.”

“This will be different from that experience,” the man said. “Much more sensitive. We’re going to wire you up now, so just relax and take a few deep breaths.”

The man and the woman began attaching devices to her body: a strap around her chest, probes like those used in an EKG to various parts of her torso, clamps on her fingers and something glued to her throat. Both of them sat down behind her.

“All right, we’re ready,” the man said. “It is very important to your career with the Agency that you not lie on any question, unless instructed to. Periodically, throughout your career, you will undergo polygraph testing as a security measure, but this is the most important one you will take. Is that clear?”