And I found that she, like me, was on her last day there. ‘I think we’re out of luck,’ I said, noticing she’d begun to shiver in the cold. ‘...ut there’s a smart restaurant where I’m staying at The National. Any chance you’d have dinner with me tonight instead?’ She seemed unsure, but then agreed. ‘You don’t need to pick me up, because I’m staying around the corner at the Hotel Russia,’ she said, naming a monolithic hunk of Soviet architecture the communists had built for their few tourists. We. Both agents seemed to have different hidden agendas. The one seemed more like a street cop than a federal agent. There was something wrong with situation she and Mark found themselves in.She had no doubt that they were feds of some sort. But were they FBI? So many questions, so few answers. "What next?" she asked aloud. Rachel Jones shook her head and tried to concentrate of the problems they faced.She was reminded of the upper management at Cheswick and they way the department heads related to. More

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