I toss the blankets off, throw my legs over the side of the bed, and sit up. “What are you doing?”

“Following Thorn,” he says. “Nobody else seems to be interested. I’m just across the street from our hotel, corner of E Street and New Jersey Avenue. I followed Thorn from his hotel half a block to the corner where you turn to go to ours. He walked across the street, went up to the door at the liquor store, but it was closed. It’s not open yet. It’s just after nine. I think he knew it wasn’t open but was lookin’ at the mirror, you know-the glass door, to see if anybody was following him.”

“Which means he probably saw you,” I tell him.

“No,” says Herman. “I had the angle on him. I’m not that stupid. Then he went down the street and ducked into a garage that’s, like, right across the street from the front door to our hotel. I hope to hell he’s not gettin’ into a car, ’cause if he is we’re about to lose him.”

“Listen, don’t go in there,” I tell him. “Wait for the cops.”

“There are no cops,” says Herman.

“What’s going on?” says Joselyn.

“Herman is following Thorn. He says there’s nobody tailing him.”

“No, that can’t be right,” she says. “Let me talk to him.”

I hand her the phone. She’s still lying down under the covers, head on the pillow.

I start to get dressed.

“Herman, this is Joselyn. What are you doing?” She listens for a moment. “Yeah, but my people told us to stay away from him. They have it covered. Give them some credit. You’re going to mess things up. Now get back over here.”

He says something to her, but I can’t hear it.

“Here, he wants to talk to you.” She gives me the phone back. “Tell him to come back to his room,” she says.

“Paul!” Herman is shouting into the phone.

“Yeah.” I put the phone up to my ear as I hold my pants up with the other hand. “The sign out in front of the garage says ‘Colonial Parking,’ right over the door. Big white block letters. If you step out of the hotel and turn right, you can’t miss it. It’s right across the street.”

“Wait for me,” I tell him.

“I’m just gonna stick my nose inside to see if he’s there. He might be tryin’ to slip out another door. And if he’s got a car, at least I’ll get the license plate number.”

“No!”

“Get over here as quick as you can,” he says. Then he hangs up.

Herman smiled at the attendant in the glass booth as he walked into the garage. He strode with confidence, as if he was heading to his parked car inside. Then as soon as he made the turn where the attendant couldn’t see him anymore he immediately slowed down.

Herman knew he’d made a mistake the moment he passed through the door. The light was all wrong. But it was too late. He was already committed. He moved toward the wall and tried to stay in what shadow there was as he moved toward the line of cars in the second aisle. From what he could see from the outside, that was the route Thorn had taken when he entered.

Herman slipped one hand into his pocket and tried to melt his huge frame into the concrete wall while he inched his way along. He walked until he was opposite the long, narrow driveway that made up the second aisle in the parking garage.

From here he could see straight down the long row of vehicles, all the way to the other end of the building. There were cars parked nose in on both sides, with the painted arrow on the floor pointing in this direction. The garage was one way, with traffic weaving up and down each aisle.

Herman listened for the noise of an engine starting and scanned the aisle on both sides looking for backup lights. But he didn’t see or hear anything.

“Damn it!” I tell her.

“What’s he doing?” says Joselyn.

“Herman followed Thorn to the garage across the street, now he’s going inside.”

“Who, Thorn or Herman?” she says.

“Both of them.”

“Why didn’t you tell him to stop?”

“I did. He wouldn’t listen.” I pull my shirt over my head and slip on my shoes sans socks.

“You’re not going over there?”

“I have to.” I press my phone into the holster on my belt and strap it down.

Joselyn throws the blankets off and starts to get up.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“With you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Why not?” she says. “If the two of you can be terminally stupid, why can’t I? Herman has rocks in his head. And you’re not much better. Neither of you listen,” she says. “The FBI and the police have Thorn covered. I have it from on high. You can trust me on this.”

“Tell that to Herman,” I say.

“I did. He wouldn’t listen. In other words, he doesn’t trust me,” she says.

“It’s not just you. Herman doesn’t trust anybody,” I tell her. “Herman believes what he sees with his eyes and smells with his nose. I think that’s how he’s stayed alive this long.”

“So it’ll serve you right if the FBI busts both of you for interfering with their investigation.” She has her bra on and is pulling up her pants, searching for a top. “And if they do, don’t call me to come post bail,” she says.

I glance at her and smile. “You mean if I called, you wouldn’t come?”

She looks at me, trying to maintain a stern expression. “I don’t know. What I want to know is why men are so stupid.”

“Probably has to do with the yin and the yang,” I tell her. “Testosterone versus the female hormone.”

“You mean estrogen?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. It’s why women find it so easy to manipulate us. It gives you that whole sexy package,” I tell her.

“Yes, that along with intelligence,” she says. “Don’t try to patronize me and don’t change the subject. If you guys want to think with your dicks, that’s fine, but don’t ask me to put my body on the block with friends in the future unless you’re willing to cooperate.”

“You stay here,” I tell her.

“Oh, sure.” She has her top unbuttoned and no shoes on her feet. “I’ll just lie back down and go to sleep,” she says.

“I’ll grab Herman and be back in a flash.” Before she can answer or follow me, I’m out the door. I hear one of her shoes slam against the inside of it before it can close.

Thorn was down on one knee between two parked cars about twelve vehicles down the aisle in the garage. He looked at his watch to check the time. This morning he was on a very tight schedule, and he had to keep moving.

Thorn knew that the three of them had been following him since before his last trip to Puerto Rico: the lawyer, his investigator, and the bitch Joselyn Cole. Thorn had been tipped off, been given detailed information and then told not to worry, that everything was taken care of. It wasn’t then, but it would be now. He had to get them off his back and keep them off for at least one hour. That was all he needed. After that it wouldn’t matter. By noon it would all be over.

In the meantime his luggage from Puerto Rico would catch up with him at the hotel. Thorn would be free to select any one of the three fresh passports from his suitcase and disappear, vanish forever into the luxury of a multimillion-dollar retirement.

He didn’t have to wait long. A few seconds later he heard footsteps moving in the shadows of the garage. They were coming from the direction of the sunlit entrance at the ticket kiosk out in front. He saw the large silhouette as the man moved slowly. He stayed away from the cars as if he knew that the blind spaces between them represented a risk. Instead, he kept his back to the front concrete wall of the building, where he knew there was nothing behind him.

The man stalking him tried to stay in the shadows, but given the bright morning sunlight and the fact that he was backlit against the opening of the garage entrance, it was impossible.

Thorn could have easily threaded the silencer on the small Walther PPK in his pocket, and even at this distance could probably hit the man at least three times without missing. The guy was that big. But he didn’t want to take the chance, not with the ticket attendant in the kiosk out in front. Besides, the Walther might not drop him. Instead, Thorn stuck to the plan, waited, and watched. He would use the gun only if one or both of the other two showed up. Thorn had arranged it all in the garage directly across from their hotel to make it as convenient as possible.