The firm rap on my office door caused me to glance up from the report I was updating. Anthony Sebring, Sr., stood in the doorway.
“Mann.”
“Yes.” What he was doing here in Langley? He was usually at State. “Please, come in.” I rose, about to cross my office to offer him my hand. “You wished to see me, sir?”
He held up his hand. “Sit down, please.” He closed the door and took a seat on the other side of my desk.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Sebring?”
“You know who I am?”
The man whose family had espionage bred into their bones, who was almost royalty in the intelligence community? I would have chuckled in wry amusement, but Mr. Freeze never permitted any emotion to cross his face. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. I wish to speak with you.”
“Of course. May I offer you a brandy?” I kept a bottle in t
