“Am I getting blamed for Teddy Fay?” she asked.

“Not exactly,” Lance replied. “It’s just felt that you’ve had a number of opportunities to kill him and you haven’t done so.”

“Lance, I’ve seen the man only once when I knew who he was, and, on that occasion, I managed to put a bullet in him.”

“Yes, but not in the head or the heart,” Lance pointed out. “And given that, during your schooling at the Farm, you ran up the highest scores with a handgun of any trainee ever, some wonder why you didn’t do just a little better. In fact, I myself have wondered.”

Holly had wondered about that, too. “I won’t dignify that with a response,” she said, by way of saying nothing. She almost said that she was not an assassin but thought better of it.

“Be that as it may, you are just a little too hot around here at the moment, so take some leave. The director has had a word with the higher-ups, complaining about the unused leave time that some officers have allowed to pile up, and you’re high on the list. You’ve got nine weeks coming, and it’s time you took some time.”

“Lance, I’ve got an awful lot on my plate right now.”

“You need a change of diet,” he said. “And, you might recall, we’ve made a few modifications in that house of yours in Florida.”

Holly had nearly forgotten about that, and she had not visited the house since. “That wasn’t my idea.”

“Go there. E-mail or call, if you can’t stand being out of touch, but go.”

Holly sighed. “Well, I guess I could clean up my desk in a few days,” she said.

“You’ve got two hours to write me a memo on what’s pending, so I can reassign the work, then you’re out of here.” He paused for a reaction and got none. “Are you hearing me?”

“I’m doing that job for the director,” she said. She had grown fairly close to Katharine Rule Lee, the director of Central Intelligence, and she wanted to further that relationship.