Washington, Georgetown District.
This was one of the oldest and most expensive neighborhoods in the entire city.
The cobblestone streets were lined with 18th-century red-brick townhouses, and behind every door could live a retired ambassador or a Supreme Court justice.
Late at night, a black Chevrolet Suburban pulled to a stop at the end of a secluded alley.
Leo Wallace opened the car door and stepped out into the rain.
He walked up to an unmarked, three-story building and rang the doorbell.
The door opened. A burly man in a black suit and an earpiece blocked the entrance, sizing up Leo with a scrutinizing gaze.
"Leo Wallace."
Leo gave his name.
The burly man stepped aside to let him pass.
This was a private club, not open to the public.
Richard Taylor was sitting in an armchair by the first-floor fireplace.
"You're punctual, Mr. Mayor."
Taylor gestured to the chair opposite him.
"Have a seat."
Leo took off his drenched overcoat and handed it to a nearby attendant.
