rented for their clandestine liaisons, and he could have banged her for hours. His protection detail would not have said a word, because they wouldn’t be there to report marital infidelity; they would be there to keep him alive.
But it was a moot point, because he had no security team, just a mistress, and he had an itching need to see her tonight before going home to his wife.
He’d met the congressmen and staffers during happy hour and then they’d enjoyed a quick bite, so it was only seven fifteen in the evening now. He made his way through the packed restaurant, heading for the door, and he did not notice the fit man with the beard in the blue blazer who stood from the bar and began following him.
Renfro’s car was parked in the private lot just north of the restaurant, and as he walked along in the early throes of dusk he sent a text to Trina to tell her he’d meet her at the apartment in thirty minutes but could only stay a short while. Trina would be there; she could be relied upon to do what Renfro told her to.
She’d left her husband years ago for him, and he’d not left his wife. She belonged to him now, as far as she was concerned.
As he turned into the parking lot he looked back over his left shoulder. A man walked behind him, not fifty feet back, making no sound as he did so. Renfro thought nothing of it, but he knew to keep an eye out and made note of the man’s clothing and general appearance. Forties, fit, with blond hair, a blue blazer, and facial hair. Renfro continued on till he arrived at his Lexus sedan, and he climbed behind the wheel.
Pulling out of the garage, he saw the man who had been right behind him climbing into a black Chevy Suburban.
As he drove through evening D.C. traffic he called his wife and told her he was leaving drinks and heading to dinner with a couple of colleagues. She was used to his late nights with the boys, and she told him to have fun.
Then he called Trina and told her he’d be at their rendezvous apartment in Woodley Park in twenty minutes.
Traffic was slow, but he turned up towards Columbia Heights in a bid to get out of the heaviest congestion. He rode along, thinking about the fun he would have tonight before returning home, and he looked into his rearview again. He saw what appeared to be the same black Suburban that he’d last seen ten minutes earlier in Capitol Hill.
Or could it be a different Suburban?
The SUV was right behind him now, and it pulled closer, just twenty or thirty feet back. At a stoplight Renfro focused on the driver of the vehicle, and he saw that it was almost definitely the same man who had been behind him during the walk to the parking lot.
Renfro kept looking into his rearview, not certain yet that this guy was tailing him, but his suspicions grew each and every minute as the Suburban followed his turns. He tried to remember long-ago-forgotten tradecraft about how to deal with a nearly overt tail like this, but all he could remember to do was to not panic.
He wasn’t panicking, but he was growing more nervous by the moment.
The Suburban looked like a government vehicle, but there was no way for Renfro to know for sure. His mind filled, thinking about those who might be tailing, and slowly a dull feeling of panic did begin welling inside him.
He grabbed his phone, thinking he would call Agency security, but he immediately put it down. They’d have questions for him. Why was he in this part of town, and where was he heading? For what purpose, would he think, might someone be following him?
He’d need a story, and he didn’t trust himself to make up something on the fly that would suffice.
Quickly he got the idea to stop at a nearby mall, do a little shopping, and see if the tail would dismount and begin a foot follow. He told himself this would accomplish two things; first, he would be able to see the number and disposition of the tail, instead of just the headlights of a single vehicle behind him. This might tip him off as to whether they were government or private. And second, he’d buy something for his wife here, and establish his bona fides for being