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Prologue

I

GEOFFREY SHAFER, dashingly outfitted in a single-breasted blue blazer, white shirt, striped tie, and narrow gray trousers from H Huntsman & Sons, walked out of his town house at seven-thirty in the uar XJ12

He backed the Jag slowly out of the driveway, then stepped on the accelerator The sleek sports car rocketed up to fifty before it reached the stop sign at Connecticut Avenue, in the posh Kaloraton, DC

When Shafer reached the busy intersection, he didn’t stop He floored the accelerator, picking up more speed

He was doing sixty-five and ached to crash the Jag into the stately fieldstone wall bordering the avenue He ai closer to the wall He could see the head-on collision, visualize it, feel it all over

At the last possible second, he tried to avoid the deadly crash He spun the wheel hard to the left The sports car fish-tailed all the way across the avenue, tires screeching and burning, the smell of rubber thick in the air

The Jag skidded to a stop, headed the wrong way on the street, the windshield issuing its glossy black stare at a barrage of early onco traffic

Shafer stepped on the accelerator again and headed forward against the oncoan to honk loud, sustained blasts

Shafer didn’t even try to catch his breath or bearings He sped along the avenue, gaining speed He zooe and made a left, then another left onto Rock Creek Parkway

A tiny screa swiftly and unexpectedly A moment of fear, weakness

He floored the gas pedal again, and the engine roared He was doing seventy, then pressing to eighty He zigged and zagged around slower- sedans, sport-utility vehicles, a soot-covered A&P delivery truck

Only a few honked now Other drivers on the parkere terrified, scared out of their minds

He exited the Rock Creek Parkway at fifty ain

P Street was even ton was just waking up and setting off to work He could still see that inviting stone wall on Connecticut He shouldn’t have stopped He began searching for another rock-solid object, looking for so to hit very hard

He was doing eighty miles an hour as he approached Dupont Circle He shot forward like a ground rocket Two lines of traffic were backed up at a red light No way out of this one, he thought Nowhere to go left or right

He didn’t want to rear-end a dozen cars! That was no way to end this—end his life—by s into a commonplace Chevy Caprice, a Honda Accord, a delivery truck

He swerved violently to the left and veered into the lanes of traffic coht at hi faces behind the dusty, grih-pitched symphony of fear

He ran the next light and just barely squeezed between an onco Jeep and a concrete-mixer truck

He sped down M Street, then onto Pennsylvania Avenue, and headed toward Washington Circle The George Washington University Medical Center was up ahead—a perfect ending?

The Metro patrol car appeared out of nowhere, its siren-bullhorn screa for him to pull over Shafer slowed down and pulled to the curb

The cop hurried to Shafer’s car, his hand on his holster He looked frightened and unsure

“Get out of the car, sir,” the cop said in a coht now”