"Exactly." Dylan pulls up more files. "We've got Morrison's operational records. Webb's financial transfers. Names of everyone involved in Protocol Seven. Give that to reporters who specialize in government corruption. Give them enough documentation that they can verify independently. Make the story too solid to ignore."
"The Committee will still try to shut it down," Stryker points out. "They've got people in every major news organization. Editors who kill stories. Lawyers who threaten lawsuits."
"Then we make it too expensive to protect," Dylan says. "The Committee exists because people in power benefit from it existing. But if Webb and Morrison's legacy become liabilities—if keeping them protected costs more than cutting them loose—the Committee will sacrifice Webb to save itself."
Kane studies the documents on the display. "You're suggesting we divide them from the inside."
"I'm suggesting we give them a reason to turn on each other." Dylan gestures to the files. "Morrison's war crimes implicate generals who are still serving. Webb's financial corruption touches defense contractors with billions in government contracts. Protocol Seven violates international law. Put that in front of the right people and suddenly everyone connected to them starts looking for exits."
"Who's going to believe us?" I ask. "The Committee will claim it's disinformation. They'll paint Echo Ridge as terrorists making up stories to justify their actions."
"Which is why we need corroboration," Kane says slowly. His expression shifts—calculation replacing skepticism. "Someone inside the Committee willing to verify our intel.Someone credible enough that the press can't dismiss them as compromised."
"Victoria Cross," Dylan says.
Stryker straightens. "Cross won't go on record. She's an intelligence broker. Her entire business model depends on staying anonymous."
"She doesn't have to go on record. She just needs to confirm what we already know and point us toward who else will talk." Dylan pulls up a new file—communications from Cross that I haven't seen before. "She's been feeding us intel on Committee movements for months. She knows their internal structure. Who was loyal to Morrison. Who's positioning to distance themselves now that he's dead and Webb's taken over."
"Why would she help?" I ask.
"Because Morrison's death changed the power structure," Kane says. "The Committee's splintering already. Cross survives by being on the winning side. If we can accelerate that process, she benefits. New leadership means new opportunities."
"So we use her opportunism," I say.
"We use everyone's survival instinct." Dylan meets my eyes. "That's what makes this work. We're not asking anyone to be a hero. We're just showing them the door before the building collapses."
The logic is sound. Ruthless, but sound. Take what I've learned about the Committee and weaponize it. Turn their own structure against them. Make Webb and Morrison's operation so toxic that protecting Webb becomes impossible.
"How long to prepare the exposé?" Kane asks me.
"I've got most of the research compiled. But I need to verify sources. Contact journalists I trust. Set up coordination so they all publish simultaneously." I run calculations in my head. "I need time to do this right."
"We don't have time," Stryker says.
"Then we work fast." I pull my laptop closer. "Dylan, I need what you have on Protocol Seven's operational history. Dates, locations, casualties. Kane, I need names of Committee members who might turn if pressure mounts. Stryker, I need you to coordinate secure communications with journalists. If the Committee is monitoring my usual contacts, we need alternate channels."
"Insurance. If the Committee takes us out before the story publishes, it needs to publish anyway. Automatically." Dylan's tone stays matter-of-fact, like he's discussing dinner plans instead of our potential deaths. "We set up multiple triggers. If we don't check in at regular intervals, files get released to every outlet we've prepared. The Committee can kill us, but they can't stop the story."
"That's cheerful," I mutter.
"That's survival." Kane nods slowly. "Tommy can set up the technical infrastructure. Multiple redundant systems. Geographic distribution so they can't shut it down by hitting one server. Reagan, you compile the master file. What we've got. What Cross provides. Make it comprehensive."
"And irrefutable," Dylan adds. "The Committee will attack the story's credibility. Every claim needs documentation. Every allegation needs sources. Make it so solid that discrediting it would require admitting it's true."
The weight of what they're asking settles over me. Six months of investigation distilled into an exposé that will either destroy the Committee, get us all killed or both. No pressure.
Khalid speaks up from his corner. "What happens if it works? If the Committee splits and people start talking?"
"Then we've got cover," Kane says. "Federal investigation. Congressional hearings. Media attention. Makes it harder for them to eliminate us quietly. Public scrutiny is the best protection we've got."
"And if it doesn't work?" Khalid presses.
Nobody answers. The silence stretches until Dylan breaks it.
"Then we die knowing we tried something besides running."
The bluntness should shock me. Instead it feels oddly honest. We're past the point of comfortable lies. This works or it doesn't. We expose the Committee or we don't. Running out of time makes the choice simple.
