“What’s the meaning of this?” Blunt demanded as he stood.
A final agent entered the room and stared at Blunt. “Sorry about the intrusion, Senator, but I’m Special Agent Renfroe. and you’re under arrest for breaking the National Security Act.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I’m a patriot.”
“You’re a patriot who’s under arrest, sir,” Renfroe said coolly. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I’d rather not walk you out of this building in handcuffs, but it’s up to you.”
“You’re making a big mistake,” Blunt said with a growl. “Let me get my cane.”
Blunt eased into his old man act and shuffled across the room. He picked up his cane and shook it at Renfroe.
“You’re making a mistake, Agent Renfroe,” Blunt said. “How can I even get arrested for this? The National Security Act forbids government agencies from spying on American citizens. You’re probably unaware that I don’t work for the government any more.”
“So, you’re not denying that you were spying on someone?” Renfroe asked.
“I want to speak to my lawyer,” Blunt said as he hobbled toward the door.
“Oh, you’ll get to speak to your lawyer,” Renfroe said. “You’re not going to be mistreated in any way.”
“This is wrong, so wrong,” Blunt grumbled.
Blunt followed Renfroe and his team onto an elevator and descended to the bottom floor. The spectacle of a well-known former senator escorted by federal agents drew long glances, some of which were accompanied by gaping mouths. A few other people pulled out their cell phones and captured video of the event. A somber Blunt kept his head down and trudged along toward a waiting vehicle.
“This is going to be the end of your career, Renfroe.”
Renfroe used the mirror on the passenger side visor to make eye contact with Blunt, who was wedged between a pair of agents.
“Comfy back there, Senator?” Renfroe asked.
Blunt sneered and turned to look out the window. As the SUV was pulling away, Blunt saw several people running up alongside the vehicle as they held out their phones to continue documenting the moment.
“You should’ve just perp walked me right through the front door,” Blunt said. “It wouldn’t have been any less of a circus than the one you just created. I hope you’re enjoying this final ride as an FBI agent. Some powerful people are going to be pissed that you’re intervening like this.”
“I find it interesting that you’ve yet to deny any of the charges,” Renfroe said.
“How can I deny something for which I can’t be charged?” Blunt asked. “It’s almost like double jeopardy. I’m not even eligible to break this law since I don’t work for a government agency.”
“If you want to direct your anger at anyone, maybe you should consider the people who fingered you,” Renfroe said. “I know you’re really upset that you got caught, but you’re not really that angry at me.”
“No one turned me in,” Blunt said. “The people I work with are loyal to me to a fault—every last one of them.”
“Are you sure about that, Senator? Sometimes, it doesn’t take much for someone to roll over on you.”
“I’m as sure about that as I’m sure that I’m sitting here talking with you about your ridiculous theories. Whoever authorized this is overstepping their bounds.”
Blunt rode the rest of the way in silence. When they arrived at FBI headquarters, a small crowd of reporters had gathered on the front steps. Once the agents opened the door for Blunt, the media members swarmed on them, shoving cameras and microphones in Blunt’s face. He turned aside and shielded himself with his coat.
“Senator Blunt, what do you have to say for yourself?” one reporter asked.
“Senator, do you plan to fight these charges?” another inquired.
Blunt lumbered ahead, plowing through the frothing press corps on his way up the steps. He glanced to his left and noticed a small lectern set up with the FBI director making his way to it.
“The director is ready to make his remarks,” a woman announced, drawing the attention of all the reporters. They scurried over to the director and worked quickly to set up their cameras to capture the announcement.
“What’s that all about?” Blunt asked one of the agents.
“Oh, that?” asked the agent. “The director is making a statement about your arrest.”
Blunt let out a string of expletives before entering the building and being subjected to a search by security personnel. Once Blunt was permitted to pass through the metal detectors, he was whisked away to a holding room.
Still fuming, Blunt sat with his arms crossed. An agent entered the room and placed a cup of coffee in front of him.
“Here you go, Senator,” he said as he nudged the drink toward Blunt. “I wasn’t sure, but I guessed you aren’t a cream and sugar kind of guy.”
“I’m not a coffee kind of guy,” Blunt said and then grunted to punctuate his displeasure.
“Well, I’ll get this out of your way then,” the man said before snatching the cup and exiting the room.
Blunt stared at the clock on the far wall. The faint ticking sound irked him, serving more as a torture device than an informational tool. He didn’t care what time it was. All he cared about was talking with his lawyer and clearing up this mess that was sullying a respectable reputation.
Another half hour passed before a knock on the door was followed by a familiar face.
Blunt glared at the man as he entered the room and sat down at the table across from him. It was Justin Frazier, head of the NSA.
“If you had anything to do with this, I swear I’m gonna choke you to death with my bare hands,” Blunt said.
Frazier gave a coy smile. “It’s nice to see you too, J.D.”
CHAPTER 11
Washington, D.C.
HAWK, CAN YOU HEAR ME?”
