“We’ll be back,” one of the men said.
“I’ll be waiting,” she snipped.
Hawk hustled over to the closet where Alex was still hiding.
“What’s going on?”
“Good news, bad news. The good news is the agents are gone for now. The bad news is they’re coming back.”
“Then let’s get the hell outta here.”
Hawk sighed. “Well, there’s one little problem—Mrs. Norton is still in the hallway and is waiting until they return. Got any ideas how we can get rid of her?”
Alex smiled. “I think I do.” She scrolled through her phone and called up all the information she’d gleaned from the hack the night before.
“You ready to go?” she asked Hawk while rushing toward the computer and snatching out the flash drive.
“I’m not going anywhere until Mrs. Norton is out of the hallway.”
Alex grinned again and tapped on the screen of her phone. Seconds later, Hawk heard a phone ringing down the hall, followed by Mrs. Norton complaining. Her voice faded as she grumbled.
Hawk cracked the door open. “Let’s go left.” He checked the hallway, and it was clear. Hawk quietly shut the door behind them, making sure it was locked. They both hustled toward the end of the hall and darted into the stairwell.
Two minutes later, they were sitting in their delivery van and pulling out of the building.
“What happens if those agents get inside? They’re going to find the files, aren’t they?” Hawk asked.
“I hid the files and protected them with a password,” Alex said. “I wouldn’t let Jennifer twist in the wind for me like that. It’s obvious now that she was trying to protect us in the park.”
“That restores a small sliver of my faith in humanity.”
“Don’t listen to what’s on this file then. I’m sure it will all be destroyed after that.”
Hawk shook his head and scowled. “I’ll be handling those men a different way.”
“But a legal one, right? Remember, we agreed,” she said.
He grunted and kept driving.
***
ONCE THEY RETURNED to their apartment and listened to the recording, they were both shocked at the frank nature of the conversation but not at the topic. Hawk knew he’d been targeted by someone in the U.S. government, though he never knew who it was. The damning evidence on the file ended those questions.
Alex called Angela Brentwood and arranged to meet her at a coffee shop several blocks from their apartment. Brentwood confirmed that she’d be there within the hour.
“Did you make a backup?” Hawk asked.
Alex nodded. “Made three. I’m going to go bury one in the park right now. Want to join me?”
“Of course.”
In less than half an hour, they buried a file in a prominent spot they could direct someone to if necessary. They then headed for the coffee shop, passing the time by discussing their latest favorite Bollywood movie. Hawk insisted that Airlift was the best recent movie, while Alex liked the drama Dear Zindagi.
“I thought you’d get tired of war-time portrayals of the Middle East,” Alex said.
Hawk shrugged. “A good story is a good story.”
“And Airlift was a better story than Dear Zindagi? Please.”
“Everybody has their subjective preferences as to what constitutes good.”
“I don’t care if you like action adventure stories over complex dramas, but at least be honest about it.”
Hawk held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Guilty as charged. I also like a good rom-com too.”
“As should everyone.”
When they arrived at the coffee shop, Brentwood was already there waiting on them. Hawk and Alex both glanced around at the patrons, attempting to identify if anyone was out of place. A businesswoman furiously typed on her computer with a stack of realtor cards set out neatly on the edge of the table. A college student with ear buds loudly Skyped with a friend. Two elderly men appeared engaged in a political debate. A mother wrangled two pre-school aged children while on a phone call.
Looks like the usual suspects.
They all settled at a table in the back corner after ordering their drinks.
“This doesn’t need any introduction,” Alex said as she handed a pair of ear buds to Brentwood. “Just listen.”
Brentwood jammed the small knobs into her ears and nodded at Alex, who pressed the button to play the recording over her laptop. It didn’t take long for Brentwood’s eyes to widen then bulge, followed by her mouth falling agape. When the recording ended, she slowly handed the ear buds back to Alex.
“Whoa,” Brentwood said.
“I told you.”
Brentwood nodded. “This is going to make this city come unhinged.”
“It’s also going to make you a superstar in the world of journalism,” Hawk added. “Now, how would you like to make the world forget about Woodward and Bernstein?”
Brentwood took a sip of her drink before responding. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”
CHAPTER 32
Portree, Isle of Skye
Scotland
BLUNT HAD JUST FINISHED receiving an update from Hawk and Alex when he decided to fix a pot of tea and wind down his day. It was just after 11:00 p.m., and he’d grown tired of reading all the online articles designed to incite hysteria surrounding American politics. Blunt was under no illusion that the country’s political scene used to be more cordial. He was a learned student of American history and understood how contentious policy debates had always been, beginning with George Washington and the Federalists against Anti-Federalist candidate George Clinton.
Such partisan rancor had persisted under fairly peaceful terms since the infancy of the U.S., serving as a touchstone of the country’s freedom. However, such debates also ripped families apart, leading to the widespread advice in American culture that it’s best to avoid talk of politics and religion. Blunt winced as he witnessed such civility erode with the rise of social media where anyone could be vociferous about their opinion.
Blunt closed his computer and shook his head.
“People just don’t know when to stop,” he grumbled aloud to himself.
He steeped a tea bag in his mug of hot water and followed the wisps of steam rising upward. The wind had been
