The old bar was on Pennsylvania Avenue just a few blocks from one of the world's most well-known buildings-the United States Capitol. The neoclassical seat of democracy was bracketed to the south by Independence Avenue and to the north by Constitution Avenue. The House offices ran along Independence Avenue, and the Senate offices ran along Constitution Avenue. As a general rule, representatives quenched their thirst at establishments located south of East Capitol Street, and senators dined at more upscale restaurants to the north. Certain representatives were fond of migrating north in hopes of someday joining the infinitely more exclusive club of the U.S. Senate, but rarely did a senator travel south. It was simply beneath them.

None of this would have been known to Rapp, but then again he tried to spend as little time as possible thinking about politics and politicians. His source for tracking down this particular senator, however, was a political junkie who had found all these cultural tidbits extremely interesting. The source, who also happened to be his wife, couldn't get over the fact that a senator would go to the Hawk and Dove in the middle of the afternoon to be by himself, but that's what the senator's chief of staff had told her. Always inquisitive, Anna wanted to know why it was so urgent that he track down this particular senator. He almost told her he couldn't talk about it, but that would have likely ended in her refusing to help him. He was learning to trust her. She had an insatiable curiosity, but she had also proved to him that she could keep a secret when he demanded it. Rapp told her he didn't want to talk about it on the phone, and that he'd fill her in over dinner.

So, for the second time in a week Rapp found himself plugging a meter in a part of town he rarely visited. Automatically, he did a quick search of the area, locked his car, and reached around to the small of his back to give his H amp;K P2000 a quick check. The air felt heavy and Rapp tilted his head skyward. It was overcast and it looked like it might rain at any moment. It matched his mood perfectly.

The bar was hard to miss. The Hawk and Dove was a Capitol Hill institution. Rapp had been there a few times during college, but hadn't been back in years. He stepped into the tiny entry and looked down the length of the bar. The place had a patina about it that could only be attained through lots of spilled beer, deep fried food, and the residue left from a steady haze of cigarette smoke. The brick floor was chipped and uneven, and the once white grout was now as dark as asphalt. It was a real bar, not some cookie-cutter chain where the servers wore obnoxiously colorful outfits and sat down with you to take your order.

It was a few minutes before three in the afternoon and the place was nearly empty. At the far end of the bar, Rapp found his man. He was instantly recognizable by his ridiculous comb-over hairdo and oversized ears. Rapp was not surprised to see that he was sitting with his back to the door. Rapp walked the length of the old wood bar and nodded to the bartender who was watching him intently.

The senator was perched on the last stool reading a book. Rapp stopped and delivered the rickety stool a good kick.

Senator Hartsburg grabbed the bar to steady himself and turned with anger in his eyes and a french fry dangling from his mouth. "What in the hell is wrong with you? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

Not a bad idea, Rapp thought to himself. "We need to talk."

Hartsburg's perpetual scowl deepened. "Call my office and set up an appointment." He turned his back to Rapp.

Rapp considered flicking one of the man's large ears, but thought better of it. "That's not going to happen. We need to talk now." Rapp was not a patient man. That was why he had come all the way across town. Kennedy did not seem too excited about locking horns with her new boss, and Rapp had a feeling if they didn't get the IRS off Coleman's back pronto they might be camped out on his doorstep for the next year. It was time to get something back from his new associate.

The bartender showed up. "Is everything all right, Carl?"

Before Hartsburg could reply, Rapp said, "I'll take a beer."

The bartender checked with the senator to see if this was okay. Hartsburg mumbled something under his breath and returned to his book.

"A Guinness, please?" Rapp said with a forced smile.

The bartender hesitated for a second and then left to pour the beer. Rapp peered over Hartsburg's shoulder and asked, "What're you reading?"

"None of your business."

Rapp glimpsed the title across the top of the page. "Nineteen Eighty-Four…George Orwell." He couldn't have been more surprised. "I'm impressed."

"Don't be," growled Hartsburg. "I'm reading it again so I can better understand how your type thinks."

Rapp laughed. "Well, when you're done be sure to pick up Animal Farm, so you can better understand how your type thinks."

The senator closed the book. "Would you mind? I'm here so I can eat, have a drink, and be alone. If you want to talk, call my office."

Rapp grabbed the next stool. "Relax, Carl." He figured if the bartender could call him by his first name, so could he. "Trust me…you don't want me calling your office." Rapp unclipped his BlackBerry, punched a series of buttons, and set it on the bar.

The device seemed to get the senator's attention. Hartsburg pushed his plate away and said, "Why did you come here? I really don't want to be seen with you in public, and how in the hell did you find me, anyway?"

Rapp lowered his chin. "You're kidding me…right?" He wasn't about to tell him it was his wife who had tracked him down. It was better to leave him thinking he'd employed the vast resources of the CIA to find him.

Hartsburg took a drink, and looked up at the TV. He was more uncomfortable with this encounter than Rapp had expected.

"Senator," Rapp leaned in, "you're the one who wanted to have our little off-the-record meeting. You're the one who proposed this new agreement. If you'd like to back out, I'll walk out of here right now, and believe me I'll be a happy man if I never have to lay eyes on you again."

An uncomfortable silence passed and then Hartsburg said, "Just please, not here. Don't bother me when I'm here. This is where I come to get away from everything."

There was something oddly melancholy in the senator's tone. He began to nod slowly and said, "All right."

The bartender showed up with the beer. "Put it on his tab," Rapp said as he reached for his wallet. "Just kidding." Rapp threw a twenty on the bar. "Take it out of that, and get the senator another one."

Hartsburg nodded his consent and the bartender left. After looking at his book for a moment he asked, "What's so important?"

Rapp took a sip of his dark beer and asked, "Have you told anyone about our new arrangement?"

"Are you out of your mind?"

"You're sure?" Rapp took another sip. He doubted that Hartsburg had, but he wanted to get the man on his heels.

The crotchety senator from New Jersey turned and faced Rapp. "I don't like repeating myself."

Rapp watched him intently. "What about Senator Walsh?"

Hartsburg's face twisted like he'd just bit into a lemon. "No. Bill's a vault. He keeps secrets better than anyone on the Hill. That's why he's chairman of the Intelligence Committee."

"Neither of you consulted anyone further up the chain of command?"

"Whose chain of command?"

"Mine," said Rapp.

"Dr. Kennedy, of course."

"No one else?" asked Rapp. The bartender came back with Hartsburg's drink. From the color of it, Rapp guessed it was probably scotch.