Page 34 of Hurricane Irene

Across the frontage road, Joseph parked beside a closed garden center. The LEGACY men had a clean view of the restaurant entrance and the repair bay without appearing interested in either.

“Breakfast all day,” Travis said. “Justice has finally produced a benefit.”

“You are not crossing that road for pancakes,” Joseph said.

“I was thinking eggs,” Travis said.

The restaurant smelled of coffee, fryer oil, and lemon disinfectant. Calder chose a booth in the back, then rejected it when he saw the security mirror above the register. They settled near the kitchen doors, where every passing server forced Voss to pull his elbows inward.

Nobody opened a menu.

“You arranged this summons,” Calder said to Lenora.

“I did not arrange a federal disaster response to inconvenience you,” Lenora said.

“You kept the duplicate files. You contacted Baton Rouge. You wanted leverage.”

Lenora leaned toward him across the table.

“Leverage is what intelligent people collect when their partners discuss dying women as an accounting problem.”

Voss looked from one to the other. Sweat darkened the collar of his shirt.

“You are both pretending the agent files are the danger,” he said. “The money is the danger. If FEMA compares premiums to reserves, they will see the transfers.”

“Transfers you authorized,” Calder said.

“Transfers you demanded,” Voss said.

“Transfers Lenora documented,” Calder said.

The server arrived with three waters and the careful expression of someone who had recognized a dangerous table but not yet decided why.

Calder stared at the menu as if it contained another exclusion he could exploit. He ordered black coffee and nothing else. Voss ordered eggs, changed to oatmeal, then changed back when Lenora smiled.

“What?” Voss asked.

“Nothing,” Lenora said. “I was remembering how decisively you handled the women.”

Voss looked at Calder.

“She is going to trade us,” he said.

“You would trade me before the coffee arrives,” Lenora said.

Calder gripped the edge of the table.

“The coffee is late,” Voss said.

Across the frontage road, Kiel watched through a small monocular.

“Voss has switched allegiances twice and breakfast once,” he said.

“Oatmeal frightened him,” Travis said.

“It has that effect on weak men,” Nathan said.

Inside the restaurant, Lenora opened the FEMA packet to a page she had avoided showing them. A handwritten notation appeared beside the meeting location: survivor transferred, Belle Fleur, federal interview pending.