Chapter 16 - The Verification
Deputy Attorney General Harrison stared at the flash drive for three long, agonizing seconds before sliding it slowly into the secure terminal built into his desk.
A small green indicator light blinked once, twice, and then steady. A series of encrypted directories began auto-decrypting across the monitor screen, displaying bank transfer slips, offshore account ledgers, audio recordings of extortion, and unredacted federal arrest warrants that had mysteriously vanished from the Chicago database.
Harrison’s eyes scanned the scrolling data files, his expression shifting from skeptical detachment to profound, icy shock. “My God…” he whispered, reading a specific memo detailing a multi-million-dollar bribe paid to a senior regional supervisor. “The leak goes all the way to the assistant director’s office in Chicago.”
“And Special Agent David Thorne is his primary enforcer on the ground in D.C.,” I added, leaning forward across the desk. “He’s already tracking us right now.”
Before Harrison could answer, the secure intercom on his desk buzzed shrilly. He pressed the speaker button with a sharp tap. “Yes?”
*‘Sir, we have an emergency override request from Special Agent in Charge Thorne out of the Chicago field office,’* the receptionist’s voice crackled through the speaker, laced with tension. *‘He’s downstairs in the lobby with an armed detachment, demanding immediate entry to the executive suite under a national security warrant for three fugitives currently registered in your office.’*
Harrison’s gaze snapped from the computer screen back to me. A slow, grim smile touched the corners of his mouth. “Well,” he murmured, standing up and pressing a secondary button on his desk console, “it looks like the trash is delivering itself right to our incinerator.”
He unlocked a side door leading to a secure internal corridor. “Step into my private briefing room. Leave the terminal running.”
As Sarah, Dr. Morris, and I slipped into the adjoining room, the heavy oak double doors of the main office burst open with a resounding crash. Special Agent David Thorne strode into the room, his hand resting menacingly on his service weapon, flanked by two armed federal marshals.
“Deputy Attorney General Harrison,” Thorne barked without an ounce of respect, stepping directly toward the desk. “You’re harboring federal fugitives wanted for corporate espionage. Step away from the terminal immediately.”
Harrison didn’t flinch. He leaned back against his mahogany desk, crossing his arms with chilling calm. “Agent Thorne, you’re looking at the wrong fugitives. But don’t worry—the inspector general’s office has been waiting downstairs for you for the last ten minutes.”
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Thorne’s face went entirely white as four armed internal affairs officers stepped out from the side corridors, their weapons instantly training directly on Thorne and his men. “Drop your weapons! Federal Inspector General! Hands behind your back now!”
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