She was a pleasant change from the two rather miserable-looking day nurses who had come in with the doctor earlier. "Bonsoir!" she said breezily, whee...ing a small trolley into the room with food and water on a tray. "Bonsoir," I returned lamely."Français?" she asked. I shook my head and made a face. "OK. I try to speak English for you. My name is Danielle," she told me cheerfully. Her accent was distinct but not too thick and her friendly, melodic voice made me warm to her. I smiled at her as. Teterboro Airport. Corporate jet, another perk I could live with. Reagan National. Black town car.I’m not that familiar with DC. Nor sure where the State Department is. Nor what it looks like. And I wouldn’t find out this trip. We met Mr. Fleetwood in an undistinguished three-story office building in a mixed-use neighborhood in an area I later learned was called Adams Morgan. Northwest part of town.Morgan Fleetwood was as I’d remembered him in the Hotel Phillips in Kansas City. He’d blend in. More

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