“Yeah, but… he still has to stop at each floor to make sure we didn’t get out.” She’s trying hard to convince herself, but even she’s not buying it. “There’s no way he’ll beat us down… right?”

The elevator bobs to a stop in the basement, and the door slowly slides open. Sprinting out, I barely get two steps before I hear a loud click-clack on the metal treads of the staircase that rises directly in front of us. I crane my neck up just in time to see Janos whipping around the corner of the top step. He’s still silent, but the smallest of grins spreads across his lips.

Son of a bitch.

Viv takes off to the left, and I’m again right behind her. Janos storms down the stairs. We’ve got nothing more than a thirty-step head start. Viv makes a sharp left so we’re not in his direct line of sight, then a quick right. Down here, the basement’s got low ceilings and narrow halls. We’re like rats in a maze, twisting and turning as the cat licks his chops behind us.

Dead ahead, the long hallway widens. At the end, a bright shot of sunlight glows through the glass in the double doors. There’s our way out. The west exit – the door the President uses as he steps out for his inauguration. From here, it’s a straight shot.

Viv looks back for a half second. “You know what’s…”

I nod. She understands.

Pouring on the speed, Viv clenches her fists and heads for the light. A few drops of blood drip to the floor.

Behind us, Janos is galloping like a racehorse, slowly closing the gap. I can hear him breathing – the closer he gets, the louder it grows. We all dig in hard, and the pounding of our shoes echoes through the hallway. I’m neck and neck with Viv, who’s slowly losing steam. She’s now a half step behind. C’mon, Viv... Only a few feet to go. I study her face. Wide eyes. Mouth open. I’ve seen that look on people at mile twenty-five in the marathon. She’s not gonna make it. Sensing her pain, Janos shifts a bit to the left. Right behind Viv. He’s so close, I can almost smell him. “Viv…!” I shout.

Janos reaches out, raising his hand for the final grab. He lunges forward. The door’s straight ahead. But just as he swipes down, I grip Viv’s shoulder and make a sharp right, whipping us both around the corner, away from the door.

Janos skids across the polished floor, struggling to follow us through the turn. It’s too late. By the time he’s back in pursuit, Viv and I shove our way through a set of black vinyl double doors that look like they lead to a restaurant kitchen.

But as the doors swing shut, we find fourteen armed policemen milling around the hallway. The office on our right is the internal headquarters of the Capitol Police.

Viv’s already got her mouth open. “There’s a guy back there who’s trying to-”

I shoot her a look, shaking my head. If she blows the whistle on Janos, he’ll blow the whistle on me – and right now, I can’t afford to be taken in. From the confused look on her face, Viv doesn’t understand, but it’s still enough to let me take the lead.

“There’s a guy back there who’s muttering to himself,” I say to the three nearest officers. “He started following us for no reason, saying we were the enemy.”

“I think he snuck off his tour,” Viv adds, knowing just how to rile these guys. Pointing to the ID badge around her neck, she says, “He doesn’t have an ID.”

Janos shoves open the black vinyl doors. Three Capitol policemen move in.

“Can I help you with something?” one of them asks. He’s unimpressed with the FBI windbreaker, which he knows can be bought in the gift shop.

Before Janos can even make up a lame excuse, Viv and I continue further up the hallway that’s spread out in front of us.

“Stop them!” Janos shouts, taking off after us.

The first officer grabs him by the windbreaker, pulling him back.

“What’re you doing?” Janos roars.

“My job,” the officer says. “Now let’s see some ID.”

Twisting and turning back through the maze of the basement, we eventually push our way outside on the east front of the Capitol. The sun’s already passed to the other side of the building, but darkness is still an hour or so away. Hurtling past the groups of tourists taking pictures in front of the dome, we race toward First Street, hoping the Capitol Police give us enough of a head start. The white marble pillars of the Supreme Court are directly across the street, but I’m too busy looking for a cab.

“Taxi!” Viv and I shout simultaneously as one slows down.

We both slide inside, locking our respective doors. Back by the Capitol, Janos is nowhere in sight. For now. “I think we’re okay,” I say, ducking down in my seat and searching the crowds.

Next to me, Viv doesn’t bother to look outside. She’s too busy glaring directly at me. Her brown eyes burn – part of it’s fear, but now… part of it’s anger.

“You lied…” she finally says.

“Viv, before you-”

“I’m not a moron, y’know,” she adds, still catching her breath. “Now what the hell is going on?”

RIDING THE ESCALATOR down to the lower floors of the Smithsonian’s Museum of American History, I keep my eyes on the crowds and my hands on Viv’s shoulders. It’s still the best way to keep her calm. She’s one step down but twice as nervous. After what happened in the Capitol, she doesn’t trust anyone – including me – which is why she jerks her shoulder and shoos me away.

Without a doubt, the museum’s not the ideal place to change her mind, but it is enough of a public place to make it an unlikely spot for Janos to start hunting. As we continue our descent, Viv’s gaze flits around the room, searching the face of every person she can find. I’m guessing it’s nothing new. She said she was one of two black girls in an otherwise white school. In the Senate, she’s the only black page they’ve got. No doubt, she’s an outsider on a daily basis. But never like this. Unfolding the museum map I got from the info desk, I block us from the crowd. If we want to blend in as tourists, we have to play the part.

“Want some ice cream?” I ask as we step off the escalator and spot the old-fashioned ice-cream parlor along the wall.

Viv hammers me with a look I usually see only on the press corps. “Do I look thirteen to you?”

She’s got every right to be pissed. She signed up to do a simple favor. Instead, she spent the past half hour running for her life. For that reason alone, she needs to know what’s really going on.

“I never meant for it to happen like this,” I begin.

“Really?” she asks. She presses her lips together and pierces me with a scowl.

“Viv, when you said you would help…”

“You shouldn’t have let me! I had no idea what I was getting into!”

There’s no arguing with that. “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I never thought they’d-”

“I don’t want your apologies, Harris. Just tell me why Matthew was killed.”

I wasn’t sure she knew what it was about. It’s not the first time I underestimated her.

As we walk through an exhibit labeled A Material World, we’re surrounded by glass cases that track America’s manufacturing process. The first case is filled with timber, bricks, slate, and cowhide; the last case features the bright colored plastic of a Rubik’s Cube and a PacMan machine. “This is progress,” a nearby tour guide announces. I look at Viv. Time to make some progress here, too.

It takes me almost fifteen minutes to tell her the truth. About Matthew… and Pasternak… and even about my attempt to go to the Deputy Attorney General. Amazingly, she doesn’t show a hint of reaction – that is, until I tell her what set all the dominos tumbling. The game… and the bet.

Her mouth drops open, and she puts both hands on her head. She’s primed to explode.

“You were betting?” she asks.

“I know it sounds nuts…”

“That’s what you were doing? Gambling on Congress?”