“Guess you’ll have to stay with the car,” Ben replied, gathering his briefcase.

“What am I, the chauffeur? I’m a college graduate, Ben. A skilled professional.”

“Sorry. I don’t see any alternative. We’ll call you when we’re done.”

Jones watched, teeth clenched, and the three of them clambered out of the car, leaving him behind. “Swell,” he muttered under his breath. “We come all the way to Washington, DC, and once again I’m stuck at the children’s table.”

“Can you believe the security?” Ben whispered to Christina. They were standing in line, waiting for their turn to be scanned and searched by the officers posted at the X-ray and metal detectors.

“After 9/11? Yes, I can.” She stepped forward, laying her briefcase flat on the conveyor belt, then waiting while the female Capitol police officer waved a metal detection wand from her head to her toe. “Would you think it funny if I told you I’m getting a real charge out of this?” The guard laughed, but not much.

Loving was next through the portal. He had to take off his shoes, then his belt, but he got through in a minute or two.

And then it was Ben’s turn.

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” the officer said, “but this is the seat of the American government. We can’t be too careful.”

“Right, right,” Ben said, as he removed his college ring, then his belt, then the brand-new Harold’s shoes he’d bought just for the occasion. His mother told him that important people judge you by your shoes.

“Thank you, sir. Appreciate your cooperation.” The officer waved the wand over him again-and it beeped just as it reached his waist.

“Sir,” the officer said, “do you have any, er… any studs?”

“Studs?” Ben tried not to raise his voice. He knew the man was only doing his job, an important job, but this was a little exasperating. “Of course not.”

“He is a stud,” Christina said quietly, from her vantage point, “but he doesn’t have any.”

Loving gave her a look but made no comment.

“What about any, um, any…” He cleared his throat. “Any implants?”

“What, like have I had my breasts augmented?”

“No, sir. I was talking about, um, you know, your… penile implants.”

Christina covered her face with her hand.

“They have been known to set off the detectors on occasion,” the officer continued. “Some are made of nitinol reinforced with a copper alloy, so when the machines are on their most sensitive settings, as they are today-”

“No,” Ben said, with a sort of low growl, “I do not have-nor do I need-any… what you said.”

The Capitol police officer nodded, his face a phlegmatic mask. He could’ve been a Vulcan, except that Ben couldn’t shake the paranoid feeling that the man was laughing at him behind his eyes. “Then, sir, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to remove your trousers.”

“Remove my-are you kidding me?”

“No, sir. Regrettably, it is a necessary security precaution. We have a side room here you can use. We’ll have to call for witnesses and a video crew.”

“What!”

“Just to document that the proper procedures were followed. Can’t be too careful, you know. Frivolous lawsuits costs the taxpayers billions of dollars each year.”

“And how long will this take?”

“Oh… probably no more than half an hour. An hour at most.”

“I have an appointment with Senator Glancy. I’m expected.”

“Can’t be helped. Security first, that’s our motto. Now if you’ll just step inside this room, there are some forms-”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” With one angry flick of his wrist, Ben unfastened the button on his pleated slacks and released the zipper. The slacks fell in a bunch to the floor. Revealing the tail of his pressed white shirt. And a darling pair of boxer shorts, baby blue, with little red hearts all over them.

The officer’s stony façade began to crack.

Christina grinned from ear to ear. “Now that’s adorable. Did your mommy buy those for you, too, Ben?”

“Be. Quiet,” he replied, through clenched teeth.

“I don’t know why he’s being defensive. Do you, Loving?”

The investigator managed to keep a straight face. “No idea.”

“You work with someone for years, you think you know them, and then one day you realize they’re wearing cutie-pie boxers with little red hearts all over them. Isn’t that remarkable?”

“What I think is remarkable,” Loving said, “is that this is the first time you’ve seen his cutie-pie boxers with little red hearts all over them.”

Christina’s smile diminished considerably.

“Here’s the problem, sir,” the officer explained. “Got a button stapled to the inside of the tail of your shirt. Metal button. Probably came from the store that way, and you never took it off.”

“Does-that-mean-I-can-put-my-pants-back-on-now?” Ben answered without moving his lips.

“Of course, sir. Appreciate your cooperation.” He laid down the wand and folded his arms. “And if I may say so, sir, I think those boxers really work for you. Bring out the blue in your eyes.”

“Thanks so much,” Ben said icily. He pulled up his trousers and grabbed his briefcase, then rejoined his companions. “Don’t say it,” he warned them. “Don’t say a word.”

“Of course not,” Christina agreed. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Pause. “But man-what a pair of thighs.” She whistled.

“Christina-!”

“You’re a regular Casanova, what with the sexy hearts and all. Wouldn’t you say he was a regular Casanova, Loving?”

Loving nodded curtly. “Chick magnet. Big-time.”

“I hope you’re enjoying yourselves,” Ben said, as they reached the central lobby. “Because when we get back to the office-you’re both fired.”

The generally jocund mood continued, much to Ben’s chagrin, until they were greeted by an attractive blond teenager wearing a blue suit with a name tag.

“Mr. Kincaid? I’m Tiffany Dell. I’m a Senate page.”

Ben shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Senator Glancy asked me to show you to his office when you arrived.”

“Oh, I’m sure we can find it. You-”

“Don’t count on it, sir.” She laughed, almost a giggle. “This place is a maze to the uninitiated. Took me a week to get the lay of the land.”

“Still, you must have more important things-”

“Sir, running errands for senators is what pages do. It’s, like, our job description.”

“Very well,” Christina said. “Lead on. By the way, love that suit.”

“Thanks, but I didn’t pick it out. It’s the standard page uniform. You can’t change it. We’re not even allowed to wear jewelry. I try to do the best I can with it.”

“You succeed. Helps that you’re in great shape.”

“I should be. On average, pages walk seven miles a day.”

“Wow. You must be all muscle tone. Ben, I’m dumping you to become a Senate page.”

Tiffany laughed. “I think you’re over the age limit, nothing personal. And even though it’s good exercise-it’s exhausting. Back and forth between the houses, all day long. The underground tram barely helps. Though I’d rather be out and about than stuck in that tiny former cloakroom we call our headquarters.” She led them around a corner and down a long marble hallway. “Do you have time for a quick tour? We don’t have to stay in this building. Wanna see the Senate chamber? The antique desks? The photo op platform where Vice President Cheney gave Patrick Leahy the f-word? Or the West Front-that’s where presidents are sworn into office. Statuary Hall? The Rotunda? Or the catafalque beneath-that’s where they originally planned to bury George Washington, and where Lincoln and Kennedy and Reagan lay in state before burial. Did you know that the first Supreme Court chamber was in this building, before they got their own place across the street?”

“I did,” Ben said, “and I’d love to see all that, but I think your boss is anxious to talk to us.”

“All right. If your schedule lightens up, just ask someone to call for Tiffany.” She turned toward a long narrow stairway and led the way.