Weeks and months blur together after that. More meetings. More shipments. More intelligence flowing into my encrypted drives while I maintain the fiction of Michael Hayes, loyal operative. Webb starts bringing me into larger operations, trusting me with details about their network structure, theirfederal contacts, their plans for eliminating threats to the organization.
I memorize everything, and the case file grows.
When CIA finally makes contact, it comes as a burst transmission on the encrypted device. Short, coded message that decrypts to:Extraction authorized. Primary mission complete. Exfil protocol Tango-Seven. Move fast.
I stare at the message for a long moment, running through implications. Primary mission complete means they have what they need to move against the organization. Move fast means I need to disappear before they figure out what I've been doing.
It also means I've been in the dark since I went under with zero contact to anyone outside this operation.
I destroy the message and start planning my exit.
Michael Hayes needs to vanish in a way that doesn't raise immediate suspicion. They'll figure it out eventually, but I need enough head start that they can't track me before I'm behind CIA protection. I move money to accounts they can't trace, scrub my digital footprint, plant false leads that will send them chasing ghosts.
On my last day in their network, Webb calls me into his office.
"Hayes." He's not smiling. "We have a problem."
My training kicks in. I maintain cover. "What kind of problem?"
"An NSA analyst. She's been tracking our communications, building a case." He slides a photo across his desk. "She's been neutralized, but we need to make sure she didn't pass intelligence to anyone else."
I look at the photo and my world stops.
Sarah—NSA signals intelligence. I left her in DC with promises I'd come back. I haven't contacted her because this operation means complete communications blackout.
Her face is bruised in the photo.
"What happened to her?" My voice sounds distant, wrong.
Webb shrugs. "Interrogation. She wasn't cooperative. Doesn't matter now. What matters is finding out if she sent intelligence to anyone before we grabbed her."
Everything tilts sideways. Interrogation. They grabbed her. Past tense.
"Where is she now?"
"Why?" Webb's eyes narrow. "You know her?"
I force Michael Hayes back into place. Bored. Curious only because it might affect my job. "No. Just wondering if this is something I need to worry about."
"You don't." Webb takes the photo back. "She's not your concern. I just wanted you aware we're tightening security protocols. Anyone asking questions about our operations gets flagged immediately."
I nod. I leave his office, make it back to Arlington without breaking character, make it through the door before my hands start shaking.
Then I destroy everything.
I sanitize the apartment in under an hour. Evidence drives go to dead drops, electronics get wiped and destroyed, documents burn in the kitchen sink. By the time I'm finished, there's nothing connecting Michael Hayes to the CIA operative who's been bleeding them dry.
I hit the exfil point early and wait for extraction in a safe house that smells like mildew and old violence. The smell matches the taste in my mouth, the weight in my gut. Sarah's bruised face burns behind my eyelids every time I blink.
The CIA debrief takes weeks. They're pleased with my intelligence haul, excited about the proof I've gathered, already planning their move against leadership. They ask me questions about logistics, about personnel, about operational details.
They don't ask about Sarah.
Finally they release me to a safe house outside Langley and tell me to wait while they process my intelligence and plan their operation. I wait until the handler leaves. Then I find the nearest computer terminal with external access.
Sarah Andrews. NSA. Fort Meade.
My searches come back with nothing useful. No current assignment. No recent activity. Just a personnel file that lists her as inactive, no additional details available.
