Part 29 (1/2)

”Who are you, then?” I asked.

She thought for a second, weighing the truth versus a possible lie. The truth won out. ”My name's not Beverly Sands, it's Agent Valerie Jensen,” she said. ”I'm with the NSA.”

”Since when do you guys have field agents?”

”We don't. Just like we also don't bug phones,” she said, standing. Without the slightest hint of modesty, she hiked up her white sundress, reholstering her .38 along her inner thigh. ”C'mon, we've got to get back to the party.”

I stood up, falling in line behind her. We were ten feet from the door when she suddenly motioned for me to stop.

The next thing I knew, she was kissing me.

CHAPTER 87.

BEFORE I could figure out what the h.e.l.l was going on, the door of Brennan's office opened. The hinges had the distinct sound of a train flying off the tracks.

Immediately, Valerie broke away from me. We'd been caught in the act: our mouths agape, eyes wide with surprise. But between the two of us, I was the only one not acting.

Valerie had heard the footsteps and had seen the turn of the door handle. Talk about thinking fast on your feet. Agent Jensen was even faster with her lips.

”Are you two cheating?” the young girl asked.

Staring at us with her arms crossed, waiting for an answer, was the Brennans' nine-year-old daughter, Rebecca.

”Cheating?” asked Valerie.

”You know, like, having an affair? You came to the party with a different man,” Rebecca said. ”I saw you, don't lie.”

”No ... no, honey,” I said, s.h.i.+fting quickly into denial mode. It was pure reflex. ”We were just-”

Valerie cut me off faster than a New York City cabdriver. ”Yes, you caught us,” she said. ”We're having an affair.”

I looked at her, stunned. Did you really just say that?

She really did.

Little Rebecca nodded with the kind of self-satisfied grin kids get when a grown-up treats them like a grown-up. She pointed at me.

”You better be careful, then,” she said. ”I saw this movie on TV, and when the husband found out, he killed the other guy with a snow globe.”

”Ooh, I've seen that movie, too,” said Valerie. She turned to me, raising her hands to act it out. ”You get hit right in the head with the snow globe-bam!-and blood starts gus.h.i.+ng down your forehead and-”

”I know, I know!” said Rebecca excitedly. She was rocking from her heels to her tiptoes. ”Wasn't it gross?”

”Totally gross,” said Valerie. ”Like, gag me with a giant spoon.”

Rebecca giggled. ”You're funny,” she said. ”You're also really pretty.”

”Thank you,” said Valerie. ”I think you're really pretty, too.”

”You think so?”

”Yes, and your mother tells me that you go to the Sidwell Friends School, so I bet you're really smart, too.”

Rebecca liked every word she was hearing. ”Did you know that Sasha and Malia Obama go there?”

”I did know that,” said Valerie. ”Have you met them?”

”Yeah, they're nice, which is cool because they really don't have to be, I guess.”

I kept doing the smartest thing I could do at that point, and that was keep my big mouth shut. Brilliantly, effortlessly, Valerie was bonding with this girl quicker than Krazy Glue. Sooner rather than later, though, she'd have to ask the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. Can you keep a secret?

But out of nowhere, another question beat us to it. Oh, no ...

”Rebecca, what are you doing?” he asked.

CHAPTER 88.

WE ALL froze as Mr. Henchman appeared in the doorway. As he glared at Valerie and me, it was the closest I'd ever come to being able to read another man's mind.

Two random guests where they absolutely shouldn't be. Whatever's going on, it isn't right.

”You know you're not supposed to be in here,” he said to Rebecca. There was little doubt, though, that he was talking to all three of us. ”You could really get in trouble.”

Valerie and I looked at Rebecca, our collective fate now in the hands of a nine-year-old ginned up on the movie Unfaithful.

I was starting to think we didn't have a snow globe's chance in h.e.l.l.

Especially when Mr. Henchman applied the full-court press. ”Well, Rebecca? What am I supposed to tell your father?”

Then again, some kids you can only press so far.

”Geez, Walt, don't have a cow!” she bellowed. ”I was just giving them a tour of the house.” Both her hands then landed squarely on her hips. ”But if you're so desperate to tell my father something, maybe it should be how you like to drink all his liquor when he's not home.”

Oh, snap. Out of the mouths of babes ...

Never had I seen a guy so big back down so fast. The upper hand now wore pink nail polish with glitter.

And on that note ...