It was a good reminder that McCloud was smart, really freaking smart. And it wouldn’t do to lose sight of that.
Behind Cal, two CSIS agents stood against a bare wall. The room was institutional. Interrogation standard.
“Cal,” Jake said, his voice flat.
“Boss.” Cal’s voice was hoarse. “It figures you guys would want to talk.”
“Talk?” Trent leaned forward, his hands balled into fists. “You betrayed us and you think we want to talk?”
Cal flinched but held Trent’s gaze. “I know what I did. I know what it cost.”
“Do you?” Omar asked. “Marielle and Olivia are in Paris right now, exposed, because you gave up our safe house locations. We’re sitting here trying to come up a plan to stop a coup because you decided your son’s freedom was worth more than our lives.”
“My son is all I have left.” Cal’s voice broke slightly. “You have to understand?—”
“We don’t have to understand anything,” Jake interrupted. “We need information. Starting with who you were working for.”
Cal was silent for a long moment. Then he said, “I was approached maybe a month ago. Anonymous contact, encrypted messages. They knew things about me. About Jackson and his case.”
“So they offered you a deal,” Jake said.
“They said they could get Jackson a Presidential pardon. He’s thirty-two. And they sentenced him to thirty years. Thirty years, that’s half his life. All I had to do was provide some information.”
“Information about Potomac’s operations,” Trent said.
“At first it was small stuff. Personnel files. Contract details. Nothing that seemed mission critical.” Cal’s hands trembled slightly. “But then, right around the time Omar and Marielle headed to Mallorca, they started asking for operational data. Safe house locations. Communication protocols.”
“And you gave it to them,” Omar said.
“I gave them what they asked for. Because every time I did, they’d send me proof Jackson’s case was moving forward. Filings. Motions. Then the pardon application.”
“Who were you communicating with?” Jake demanded.
“I don’t know. It was all encrypted file transfers. I never met anyone face to face.”
“But you figured it out eventually,” Omar said. “You knew it was connected to Vice President Hampton.”
Cal nodded slowly. “When the pardon came through, some communications aide mentioned that the Vice President’s office had lobbied hard for Jackson. I’m not stupid. I put the pieces together.”
“And even after you got what you wanted—after Jackson was released —you kept feeding them information,” Trent said, his voice hard.
“They have leverage. I’m dirty now. Plus, I thought maybe they’d gin up charges to throw Jackson back in prison if I didn’t keep playing ball. What was I supposed to do?”
“You could have come to us,” Jake said. “We would have protected you. And Jackson.”
“Would you?” Cal’s laugh was bitter. “Jake, you’re a good boss. But you’re not more powerful than the Vice President of the United States.”
“Walk us through your last communication. The one where you accessed your email from Calgary.”
Cal’s expression shifted, confusion replacing self-pity. “I haven’t used my email since I left Virginia.”
Omar exchanged glances with Jake and Trent.
Omar chose his words with care. “Someone accessed your email account from an IP address in Tunisia about twenty minutes after our team left Paris.”
Cal’s face went pale. “That wasn’t me. I swear to God, that wasn’t me. I wasn’t in Tunisia.”
“Then who has access to your accounts?” Jake demanded.
