Senator Sutton
She was out like a light. He slipped out of bed and tiptoed out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him. He made his way across the living room and through the open French doors of his study, shutting those behind him, too.
He dialed the hotel number on his landline. Thankfully, local calls didn’t show up in phone records.
Wu answered on the first ring, sounding shaken. “It’s done.”
Sutton didn’t bother replying. He simply returned the receiver to the cradle, poured himself three fingers of whiskey from the bottle on his desk, and tossed it back, the burn like a cleansing fire.