Chapter 8

Boyd sniffed the air for a second, his face wrinkled. Then he looked down at his cigarette again. "You're right, Ken. It _does_ smell like a cigar." He came over to Malone's desk, looked around for an ashtray and didn't find one, and finally went to the window and tossed the cigarette out into the Washington breeze. "How are things, anyhow, Ken?" he said. "Things are confused," Malone said. "Aren't they always?" Boyd came back to the desk and sat down in a chair at one side of it. He put his elbow on the desk. "Sur…