Page 25 of The Saint

A US customs inspector boarded the jet. He had a quick conversation with the flight staff then Camden. Their paperwork and passports were processed, and he was free to deplane.

Camden thanked the flight crew and retrieved his duffel bag. The crisp fall air was refreshing, even if tinged with diesel fuel and burnt brake rubber. The bright morning sunlight reflected off the runway. A man wearing a suit and dark sunglasses jumped out of the driver’s seat and opened the back passenger door.

Camden cleared his throat. “Hey. Morning.”

“Mr. Brooks.” The driver scanned their surroundings as he waited for Camden to get in. “I hope you had a nice flight.”

“Slept through most of it.” He reached for the door, but it was closed for him. Camden shifted uncomfortably on the leather seat. “You know,” he said when the driver sat behind the steering wheel, “I’m normally the guy who scans the perimeter for threat assessments.”

The driver nodded as if he understood Camden’s background and eased the vehicle toward the private terminal exit. “Just doing my job. You work for Titan Group?”

Camden nodded. “Yeah. Ever work with us?”

“Absolutely. Chauffeur duty isn’t my usual. There’s a Titan team based nearby. They’re rowdy but a good bunch.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. “Where are you based out of?”

“Abu Dhabi.” They passed through a security checkpoint. “Very different from where I used to call home.”

“Where was that?”

“New Jersey.”

He laughed. “How’d you end up out there?”

Camden shook his head. “Sometimes, I don’t look before I leap. But it’s worked out pretty good.”

They rolled out of the airport and onto the express lanes toward Washington, DC. The CIA had offered an upscale apartment near Beth’s, but when given the choice between a swanky place in DC or a more private small house in Virginia, he’d chosen the suburbs. Small and private trumped swank every day of the week. But before he could check out the housing arrangements, Camden had to deal with Beth.

He wore dark pants and a shirt that could transition from a twelve-hour flight to a boardroom meeting without much headache. Almost an hour later, they pulled up to the Hay-Adams Hotel. Camden had known what to expect of the fancyhotel and the people that would go in and out of its sophisticated space. He had only guesses about the CIA’s goals in meeting him.

“You can leave your belongings here.” The driver slowed near some construction barriers and pulled into a handsome horseshoe driveway.

“Pretty good-looking place.” Camden eyed the strategic cover of the column-flanked portico that protectively guarded the hotel’s entrance, then he studied his surroundings.

Meticulously tended landscaping painted a beautiful barrier between the hotel and the taxi-lined street. Considering the gilded hotel where he lived and worked, Camden wasn’t sure why he felt so out of place.

“Definitely nothing to sneeze at.”

The driver laughed. “That’s one of the best ways I’ve heard this place described.”

They parked in front of an arching door flanked by gaslit candles. Camden jumped out before the man behind the wheel could try to get his door. “Thanks for the lift.”

The lobby reminded Camden of his hotel home in Abu Dhabi. The two hotels didn’t look alike—the Abu Dhabi hotel lobby was gilded and gleaming in a way that couldn’t touch the Hay-Adams’s old money sophistication. Both hotels held an air of expectation. Those who crossed their thresholds were people who did things in the world—some for the better, some for themselves. But they were both places where access and privilege were both expected and guarded.

Beth waited in the lobby for him. Even without Parker’s briefing and her headshot, Camden would have known her the moment his gaze landed on her. Though understated, she stood out in a way that demanded notice. She had a great smile, and her presence probably made anyone whose hand she shookbelieve every word that slipped out of her mouth. Camden didn’t trust her.

She walked toward him with the confidence of a woman without a worry in the world, hand outstretched, eyes sighting him like a cruise missile locking onto a target. “How was your flight?” Her grip was strong.

The corners of his lips rose. “Uneventful.”

“Those are the best kinds of flights.” She led them through the posh lobby to a restaurant where she bypassed the staff and brought Camden to a private room set with a small table for four. Beth closed the glass-paned French doors behind herself and gestured for him to take a seat.

“Are we expecting others to join us?”Amelia?Anticipation percolated in his chest. Of course she wouldn’t join them. There would be no reason. But that didn’t quell the odd hope that she would appear.

“I just like room to spread out.” Beth tilted her head. “And, if I’m being honest…”

Camden doubted whatever she’d say next would be true.

“This room makes me feel like a princess.”

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