“If it helps,” she said, “I can assure you that there’s no need to worry about Luke’s erectile dysfunction problems.”
“Irene,” Luke muttered, “If you don’t mind—”
“He’s definitely normal in that department,” Irene continued quickly, eager to make her point. “Actually, he’s a lot bigger than normal.”
A great hush had fallen across the entire restaurant. It dawned on her that everyone was staring at he s though mesmerized.
Jason grinned. “Boy, howdy.”
Bigger, she thought, had been an unfortunate choice of words.
“I mean better than normal,” she said quickly.
She could tell immediately that the hasty rephrasing wasn’t quite right, either.
“I feel a little faint,” she said to Luke.
“That’s funny I feel like I just fell into a pharmaceutical commercial,” he said. “I believe this is one of those situations that call for a strategic retreat.”
“Yes, please.”
He hauled her forcefully toward the door, pausing long enough to collect the umbrella from a wide-eyed Brenda.
A few seconds later Irene found herself outside in the misty rain.
There was a short, freighted silence.
Irene cleared her throat. “I assume you didn’t get breakfast or a job offer.”
“No.”
“Bummer.”
“The way I look at it, this day has nowhere to go but up” Luke said.
“Now there’s an optimistic, glass-half-full kind of statement”
He ignored that. “What’s in the box?”
“Spinach and feta cheese omelet. When I heard about the intervention I had a feeling we might b eaving early. Don’t let the rain hit the muffins.”
Luke’s teeth flashed in a quick grin. “You know, I could have done without the public discussion of my erectile dysfunction issues, but I’ve got to admit that I do admire a woman who can manage to produce breakfast in a high-stress situation like that.”
Thirty-Two
The morning fog still clung to the city when Luke wedged the SUV into an empty space at the end of a quiet residential neighborhood. He switched off the engine, folded his arms on the steering wheel and studied the terrain.
The street where Hoyt Egan lived was lined on both sides with modern apartment complexes, the type that were designed to appeal to successful singles and the upwardly mobile. Each building had bee iven an attractive, Italianate facade. But when he looked past the superficial architectural elements, it was easy to see the basic square boxes behind the artfully sculpted windows and doorways.
“You’re sure this is the right address?” Irene asked, opening her door.
“Pulled it off the Internet this morning.”
“You’re certain that he’s home?”
“His office staff was very helpful when I asked about his schedule today.”
“What did you do? Promise to make a big contribution to Webb’s campaign?”
“There may have been that implication,” he admitted.
He climbed out and waited for Irene to join him on the sidewalk. Together they walked toward the entrance to Egan’s apartment building. The ornate sign over the elaborately worked wrought-iron gates identified the complex as the Palladium.
Irene stopped, her hands in the pockets of her coat, and looked at the security intercom. “What makes you think he’ll see us?”
“Don’t worry Egan will buzz us inside so fast it will make your head spin.”
“Why?”
“Pure fear. Works every time.”
Her expression transformed into a sunny smile. “Fear of you. Sure, that makes sense.”
He was amused. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate your faith in me, but I can’t take the credit. In this case, we’re talking fear of bad publicity. Egan is in charge of handling a senator who is on the road t he White House. His job depends on how well he does damage control.”
“I get it. We represent potential damage.”
“We do, indeed.” He punched the intercom button.
An impatient masculine voice, rendered tinny and scratchy by the intercom speaker, answered afte nly one ring.
“You got apartment three-oh-one,” Hoyt said. “Is this a delivery?”
“You could call it that,” Luke said. “Luke Danner. I’m with Irene Stenson.
Remember us?”
There was an instant of frozen stillness on the other end of the connection.
“What do you want?” Hoyt demanded, voice sharpening.
“To talk to you,” Luke said. “If you haven’t got time—”
A screechy, buzzing sound interrupted him. Irene turned the handle and pushed open the gate tha oyt had just unlocked.
“Come on up,” Hoyt snapped.
The intercom immediately went dead.
Luke followed Irene through the gate into a small, tiled courtyard decorated with a fountain and a number of plants growing in earthenware pots. They crossed the courtyard and went through two heavy glass doors into a small lobby There was a door marked MANAGER on one side. It was closed.
Irene started toward the elevator. Luke caught her by the arm.
“Let’s use the stairs,” he said.
“All right.” She slanted him a curious look. “Any particular reason?”
“It’s easier to get a feel for the layout of the place that way.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Old habit,” he said. “When you’re dealing with people you’re fairly sure don’t have any reason to lik ou very much, you can never have enough intelligence.”
“Ah, yes,” she said with a wise air. “Intel.”
“I prefer the term ‘intelligence.’ Sure, it’s a big word for a Marine but now that I’ve mastered it, I like to use it.”
The carpet that covered the third-floor hall hushed the sound of their footsteps, but Hoyt was obviously watching through the peephole because the door of 301 opened abruptly just as Luke raised his hand to knock.
“What’s this all about?” Hoyt demanded, letting them into the small, mirrored foyer.
“I’m in the middl f preparing for a series of meetings.”
He wore an expensive-looking dress shirt and trousers. His shoes were freshly polished. He had not yet put on a tie, but Luke decided he was telling the truth about the meetings.
“We’ll keep it short,” Luke promised.
“This way.” Hoyt angled his head toward the front room of the apartment.