"The team wants to survive. Whether you live or die depends on whether you can help with that." I step aside, leaving the doorway open. "Conference room. Five minutes. Second door on the left. Bring everything you have on Morrison and Webb."
Four minutes later, Reagan walks into the conference room carrying her laptop and a leather portfolio stuffed with printed documents. She's pulled her hair back, straightened her clothes as much as possible. Trying to look professional despite spending the night as a prisoner.
Kane's already seated. Mercer's at the tactical display. Khalid's back in his corner, watching Reagan with that unnerving stillness he has. The journalist notices him, nods slightly. Khalid nods back. Something passes between them. Recognition, maybe. Or understanding.
"Sit." Kane points to the chair across from him. "Dylan says you have intelligence worth keeping you alive. Prove it."
Reagan sits, opens her laptop, pulls up files with the efficiency of someone who's briefed hostile audiences before. "General Morrison authorized chemical weapons testing. Three hundred forty-seven Syrian civilians dead. But he couldn't do it alone—needed budget approval, operational support, classified access."
She displays a network diagram. Financial connections branching from Morrison to shell corporations, from corporations to defense contractors, from contractors to other military personnel.
"Morrison worked with Colonel Richard Whitmore at Fort Bragg and General Nancy Turner at CYBERCOM. Whitmore provided logistical support and personnel. Turner provided cyber security and communications blackout. Together they ran Protocol Seven—systematic elimination of threats through assassination and cover operations."
Kane leans forward. "How did you source this?"
"Financial records from three banks. Defense contracts filed with federal procurement. Communication logs from classified servers." Reagan meets his eyes. "Someone leaked them to a source who contacted me anonymously."
"Someone leaked classified communication logs." I keep my voice neutral. "Did you verify the source?"
"I verified the documents. Cross-referenced them with other intelligence, confirmed authorization signatures, traced financial transactions through multiple layers." Reagan meets my eyes. "The source called himself Cipher. Claimed to be adjacent to the organization. Wanted the story exposed."
"Cipher." The name means nothing. Could be legitimate whistleblower or plant. "You have any way to contact him?"
"He contacted me. Anonymous encrypted messages through a dead drop email service." She pulls up message logs. "Last contact was four days ago. He sent the final document package, told me to publish everything immediately, then disappeared."
Four days ago. Right before they started mobilizing teams to find her.
"Cipher set you up." The realization clicks into place. "Fed you real intelligence mixed with enough breadcrumbs to make you traceable. Once you published, they had justification to hunt you as a national security threat."
Reagan's expression shifts. Processing. "He wanted me to expose the Committee but also wanted them to find me."
"Cipher's one of them. Someone in Webb's organization who's playing both sides." Kane's already running scenarios. "Feed an investigative journalist enough intelligence to build a case, let her publish it publicly, then eliminate her before she can testify. Webb maintains control and gets rid of a threat. Journalist disappears. Cipher stays clean and maybe moves up in the power structure."
"Except I didn't disappear." Reagan's voice hardens. "I got picked up by you instead."
"So Cipher's plan failed and they're scrambling to adjust." The tactical display comes up. "Webb's desperate. Morrison's death put him in charge, and he can't afford any loose ends. He authorized six teams to find you, offered five hundred thousand for your location. He knows your investigation can bring down his entire network."
"Holy shit," she breathes before shaking it off. "Let the bastard burn. Webb deserves everything coming to him, just like Morrison did."
"Webb deserves a bullet." Kane's voice stays flat. "Morrison got his. But bringing down Webb's network requires evidence that holds up in court. Your investigation gets us halfway there. We need the other half."
"What other half?"
"Proof that the Committee network extends beyond Whitmore and Turner. Proof that senior leadership authorized Protocol Seven. Proof that connects Morrison's chemical weapons program to the broader organization and to Webb's current operations." Kane meets Reagan's eyes. "Can your research do that?"
Reagan doesn't hesitate. "Yes. But I need access to classified databases I can't reach from here. Financial records, communication logs, operational authorizations. Everything's in systems designed to be inaccessible."
"Between Tommy and Sarah we can access them remotely from Echo Base." I look at Kane. "They can route the connection through here, encrypted protocols. Nothing traces back to either location."
Kane considers this. "Contact Tommy. Set it up. Dylan, you oversee. Make sure Reagan doesn't access anything thatcompromises our locations or operations. She gets what she needs to build the case against Morrison. Nothing more."
"Understood."
Kane stands. "Get to work. We have a short time frame within which to make this work."
Mercer heads back to his maps. Stryker's already outside checking perimeter sensors. Khalid lingers, then follows him.
"I'll set up the connection with Tommy." I pull out my encrypted phone. "They'll route database access through the safe house terminal. You work here."
