Sixteen
Peter Harding climbed into the rear of his limo and found Stern waiting for him in the richly appointed interior. He stretched his long legs out with a sigh of satisfaction, enjoying the faint vibration of the automobile’s leashed power underneath him. Like him, this car was near invincible. The same company that supplied the President’s vehicles had made it. No one could get in or out unless he wanted them to.
Stern gave a warning look toward the open partition separating them from the driver. “The police have a suspect in custody. They want us to come in.”
“Okay.” Harding tensed. This wasn’t part of the plan. “The police station, Jim.”
The driver nodded and put the car into motion. Stern closed the partition and added, “They want to put her in a lineup for our edification and
