"—until Tommy can guarantee the Committee can't track?—"
"I said no." Reagan stands. The chair rolls backward, hits the wall. "You're cutting me off from current intelligence.From financial records, personnel files, communication logs. Everything I need to help Delaney build this case against Webb."
"Everything that creates a trail they can follow."
"The trail already exists. They have my apartment. My files. They already know who I contacted. Hiding now doesn't save anyone."
"It saves future sources. Anyone you haven't talked to yet."
"I need access to archived personnel records. Webb's operational history. Morrison's service record. Twenty years of classified deployments that prove they ran Protocol Seven together since the nineties." Reagan crosses her arms, fingers digging into her elbows. "Tommy found them yesterday. I can't help Delaney build a comprehensive case without?—"
"Tommy downloads them. You work from local copies."
"Local copies. No verification. No way to cross-reference current databases or confirm they haven't been altered." Her voice climbs. "You want us to build a federal case on faith that twenty-year-old files are accurate."
"I want us to build a federal case without painting targets on everyone who helped you get here."
"The targets are already painted. The Committee already knows my sources. You're not protecting them. You're just stopping me from finishing what they died for."
The comparison lands wrong. Twists in my chest. "They're not dead yet?—"
"Charlie's dead. Ellen's dead. That barista is dead." Reagan moves closer. The electrical heat from the monitors makes the air thick between us. "The Committee is working through my source list right now. While we're standing here arguing about database access, they're eliminating witnesses. By the time Tommy clears external access, everyone who helped me will be casualties."
"Or by the time Tommy clears access, we've protected the ones we can and you help Delaney build a case that actually convicts Webb instead of getting more people killed."
"You're controlling my investigation."
"I'm keeping you alive."
"By cutting me off from my research. By deciding what I can access. By treating me like a problem you need to manage." Reagan's jaw tightens. "Just like you did for the Committee. Making people disappear because someone decided they were problems. Controlling their lives because you thought you knew better."
The words hit like a fist to the throat. For a second I can't breathe around them.
"That's not?—"
"How is this different?" Her voice stays level but her hands shake. "You're making decisions about my work without consulting me. Limiting my options. Taking away my agency. Deciding what I need without asking what I want."
"Because problems get eliminated. People get protected." The words come out louder than they should. Sharper. "There's a difference."
"Not when the person being protected doesn't get a say in how that protection works."
"You want a say? Fine. Here's your say: you cut off external access or I watch you get killed. Those are your options." My hands grip the edge of the terminal. Knuckles white. "The Committee thinks you know Echo Base's exact coordinates. They want to capture you and extract that information so they can attack us. They're eliminating everyone connected to your investigation, following every trail that might lead them to you. Every database you touch gives them another thread to follow. Another name to add to their list. You keep working in the open and you don't just die—you get everyone around you killed first."
"I understand the risk?—"
"Do you? Because from where I'm standing, you understand researching a story. You understand investigating. You don't understand that three people are already dead because they talked to you. You don't understand that the Committee doesn't care about evidence or truth or justice. They care about eliminating problems. And right now, everyone connected to your investigation is a problem they're solving with bullets."
Reagan flinches. Barely. Just a slight pulling back of her shoulders.
The silence stretches. Outside the command center, footsteps echo down the corridor. Stryker checking perimeter sensors. The normal rhythm of safe house operations continuing while we tear into each other over a terminal that might get us all killed.
Reagan's voice drops. "I know you're trying to protect me. I know without you, I'd already be dead. But we're running out of time."
"I know."
Kane appears in the doorway before either of us can say more. "Briefing starts in five. Both of you."
Reagan looks at me. Not defiant. Just determined. "We'll figure it out. Together."
