“I’ve heard far worse, Agent.” The director turned his attention back to Hannah. “Okay, Miss Blue. So who is it? Who’s the damned dirty double agent pretending to be me?”
“Felix Graves.” Hannah spat out the name like it was poison. And Sam supposed it was. Especially to the director. “Your personal assistant.”
Morgan was too stunned to speak, so she went on to explain more about what Graves had been up to. “He’s been manipulating pretty much everything. Not to mention, Agent Greenlee, he’s been closely watching your progress in tracking Agent Beacham down. Acting as the director, he’s been in contact with your supervisor. He knew as soon as you reported it that you’d used CCTV footage to find out Agent Beacham and Major Jackson were headed north in Michigan. He also knew you’d subpoenaed Major Jackson’s phone records.”
“So he knows we have local agents headed out to question Dale Carlson even as we speak.”
For the first time, Agent Newland spoke up. “Which means he’s probably passed the information along to the Russian.”
Greenlee pulled his cell phone from his breast pocket. “We need to warn the agents in route. We need to warn Dale Carlson. We need to warn—”
“Sonowyou believe he’s real?” Sam’s mouth flattened. “When it’s your Michigan counterparts in danger and an innocent citizen? But when it was Agent Beacham’s neck on the line, you—”
Hannah squeezed his arm to cut him off. And he realized there were more important points to make.
“We’ve already alerted Major Jackson to the situation,” she said. “And I’m sure he’s called his friend to let him know to get in his car and start driving. But it’d be good to inform whoever you’ve got going up there to be on the lookout for any suspicious persons prowling around the Carlson residence.”
Greenlee nodded and pushed up from the table to walk to the edge of the room and make his call.
“Sounds like I’ve got some house-cleaning to do,” the director grumbled.
“I’m afraid it gets worse, sir.” Hannah grimaced. “Those subpoenas I mentioned? They were for a set of financial records that likely would’ve proved two things. One, that Felix Graves was funneling money from Russia to pay the trolls. And two, that the trolls knew where their paychecks originated, making them all conspirators and traitors.”
“How many?” Floyd asked, his expression grave. “How many Americans are knowingly working for the Kremlin?”
“Two hundred.”
“Fuck me. Uh…” He grimaced. “Sorry, Director.”
“Again”—Morgan waved a hand—“I’ve heard worse.”
Greenlee returned to the table. “The Michigan agents are still thirty minutes out from the Carlson residence. But I’ve updated them on the situation.”
“Very good.” Morgan nodded. “Be ready to start getting warrants for the traitors in Indiana just as soon as I give you the say so.”
Greenlee blinked. “What did I miss?”
“I’ll fill you in later,” Floyd promised.
“Now…” The director took a deep breath. “We need to get Major Jackson, Agent Beacham, and the Carlsons to safety until we can arrest Graves and cut off the information he’s feeding the assassin. Give me fifteen minutes to find an appropriate safe house. I’ll call you with the location”—his gaze was pinned on Sam’s face—“and then you can pass that information along to Major Jackson.”
“You think once Graves has been arrested, Orpheus will give up the hunt?” Hannah asked.
“That’s my hope.” The director’s tone was grim. “And once we have Graves in custody, maybe we’ll be able to get the assassin’s true identity out of him.”
Sam clenched his jaw, reading between the lines. Morgan was already considering cutting some kind of deal with traitor. A lesser sentence if Graves gave up information.
He shouldn’t be surprised. He’d worked for the government long enough to know that just about everything came down to quid pro quo.
“Okay.” Morgan sighed heavily and slapped the top of the desk he sat at. “I think everyone has their assignments. Thank you all for your service to our country this day. Let’s throw everything we have at this thing and expose the rot within, yeah?”
Hannah waited until everyone had nodded or voiced their affirmatives before the square she shared with Sam on the screen went black. Director Morgan’s face disappeared barely two seconds later. The three FBI agents were third to go and Eliza was the last to cut her connection.
Five minutes later, Sam escorted the Feds to the front gate. He nodded at Toran Connelly, and the big redhead hit the button that had the wrought iron sides sliding open with a well-oiledwhirand a littleclangat the end.
“Hey,” Sam said to the agents before they could pile into the sedan parked by the curb. It was black, utilitarian, and screamedgovernment vehicleeven before he noticed the government plates. “You boys mind keeping what you now know about this place to yourselves? I mean, me and my partners’ jobs kinda rely on secrecy, ya know?”
The overhead streetlight highlighted Greenlee’s unfriendly expression. For a second, Sam thought the lead agent might try to give him shit. Then Greenlee shrugged. “Sure. I mean, we’re all working for the same team, right?”
