As quickly as things had heated up, though, they came to an abrupt halt. Like some belligerent drunk who’d consumed one ounce too much of alcohol, the man from Langley put away his wares and announced that he’d divulged only a fraction of what he knew and that before he said anything further they needed to come to an agreement.

Up until now, Rapp had thought his coworker’s rigid principles had driven him to take this risky step, but as he listened to the two men discuss the financial details of their new relationship, that last shred of grudging respect vanished. Rapp looked through the rain at the traitor and realized that like the hundreds of miscreants who had gone before him, his coworker’s often-flaunted idealism came with a price, just as with all the other bastards.

Rapp flicked his cigarette into the gutter and watched it bob and swirl its way into the sewer. As he turned toward Park Avenue he felt not even the tiniest bit of remorse over what he had just set in motion. Without having to look, he knew that a man bearing a striking resemblance to the traitor was now climbing into the back of a Lincoln Town Car. Every detail had been arranged from the eyeglasses, to the tie, to the hair color-even the black and orange umbrella from the hotel. All that was left for Rapp to do was walk a block and a half and wait for the idiot to come to him.

CHAPTER 2

NEW YORK CITY

GLEN Adams drained the last precious drop of Remy Martin from the bulbous snifter and immediately felt cheated that he wasn’t going to get a second glass of the smooth, warm cognac.