“Yes.”
“My office.”
“Yes.”
“Not security.”
“No.”
“Not event support.”
“No.”
I lowered the phone.
“Then Mercer Defense Tech isn’t in that folder because I happen to be at the White House.”
“Correct.”
A grocery receipt was trapped beneath my windshield wiper.
I pulled it free and folded it into my pocket without reading it.
Daniel opened the passenger door.
“The harder question is why Arthur wants you away from the process.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know.”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t believe that.”
Daniel looked at me.