Griff flinched. "My Knight Tactical team is contracted for summit security. Ronan confirmed it weeks ago. Full team deployment."
"It's a trap." Doc muted the television though Buckley's smiling face remained.
"It's a massacre." Sarah pulled up more files. "Look—massive payments scheduled for the day after the summit ends. All coded 'Charleston Option.' They're going to kill your team and blame it on terrorists. Then, the payouts will refill Stillwater’s coffers and fund the next wave of bribes. The cycle keeps itself alive."
She turned to face him, her dark eyes wide. "You have to call them."
"If I call them?—"
"They're already targeted." Doc's tone was surgical. "Your silence isn't protecting them anymore. It's ensuring their deaths."
Tank. Who'd believed in doing the right thing even when it was hard. Who'd died alone because Griff hadn't been there.
Of course, he had to tell them. If nothing else, they deserved to help take down the rest of Tank’s killers. But more than that, he needed them. Desperately. He couldn’t protect Sarah alone, much less crush a US Senator.
"I'll need a secure connection," he said roughly.
"Already set up." Doc gestured to his laptop. "Military-grade encryption, bounced through servers that don't officially exist." She stood, suddenly all business. "I also have resources you'll need. Alternative transportation, safe houses, clean documents."
"CIA?" he asked.
"Among other things. Does it matter?"
"It does if you're coming with us."
"Oh, I'm definitely coming." Doc's smile was sharp as a blade. "I have justice of my own to enact. Besides, I haven’t had a real mission in far too long. Do you have any idea how tedious actual economics papers are? Plus, I've always wanted to see Charleston in spring."
"This isn't a tourist trip."
"No. It's a chance to stop these criminals from murdering good people." The humor left her voice. "I may be retired, but I still have opinions about senators who betray their country."
Sarah was already pulling up files, organizing evidence. "We'll need to move fast once you contact them. Buckley might have their communications monitored."
"Let him monitor this." Griff stared at his sat phone, fingers hovering over the screen. Six months of silence about to end. Six months wasted, with him thinking he was shielding them.
"Wait," Sarah said. "They'll want to see you."
She was right. Voice wouldn't be enough. Not after he'd ghosted them for so long.
He pulled up the secure video link Finn had sent months ago—still active, still waiting. His reflection in the black screen looked awful. Exhaustion carved into every line, the graze on his shoulder visible through his shirt, the months of haunting isolation written across his face.
Doc squeezed his shoulder—brief, maternal. "You're doing the right thing."
"Bit late for right."
"Better late than dead," Sarah said, then covered her mouth. "Sorry, that came out wrong."
Despite everything, Griff snorted. "Tank would have laughed at that."
"My guess is your friend would have made it into a teamjoke," Doc said. "Now call your people. We have a massacre to prevent."
Griff initiated the connection, watching the encryption protocols engage. In a few seconds, he'd see their faces. Have to explain. Have to admit he'd failed them by trying to protect them.
"I'll be right here," Sarah said quietly, positioning herself out of camera range but where he could see her.
The screen flickered, connection established.
21
