“She’s currently in a PJ command room,” the Europol liaison adds. “That won’t hold much longer.”
Of course it won’t.
They’re losing control.
“We’re prepared to offer conditional release into supervised technical custody,” the Oversight man continues.
I don’t sit right away.
I let the room wait.
Then I take my seat.
“She’s not your asset,” I say.
Flat.
Final.
“She’s the only one who can stop this,” he replies.
“And you’re the ones who framed her.”
A flicker.
Small.
But real.
“We’re past that,” he says. “Now we’re managing consequences.”
That’s how they see it.
Damage.
Containment.
Control.
I lean forward.
“You want her help,” I say, “you clear her name.”
“Not possible. Not yet.”
“Then you don’t get her.”
The room tightens.
Subtle.
But real.
“You don’t understand how big this is,” he says.
I smile.
Cold.
