The Georgetown morning tasted of freezing rain and damp, decaying oak leaves.
Ryan stepped out of the armored Suburban at exactly 7:55 AM. The cobblestone street was completely silent, insulated by the heavy canopy of bare, twisting branches hanging over the brick sidewalks. The air carried a biting, heavy chill that bypassed the dark wool of his overcoat.
Hayes flanked him, scanning the Federal-style brick townhouse ahead.
"Perimeter is clear, boss. Street is locked."
"Hold the vehicle," Ryan said, walking up the short flight of stone steps.
The heavy, gloss-black front door swung open before he reached the brass knocker.
A private security contractor in a subdued charcoal suit offered a single, tight nod, stepping aside to let Ryan into the foyer.
The interior of Senator Alden's residence smelled of burning hickory, aged leather, and expensive, dark-roast coffee.
