Measure of Darkness by Chris Jordan

real?”
    The big woman nods. “Shane wouldn’t make that kind of mistake. He can be fooled—we all can, depending on circumstance—but not like that. Not Randall Shane.”
    â€œWhat’s your take on the case against him? All the physical evidence indicates he killed the professor.”
    â€œCrap. His own gun? A bloody shirt? Shane does the deed, then keeps blood evidence? No way.”
    â€œSo you believe he’s been set up?”
    Bevins nods, keeping direct eye contact with Dane. “No doubt. There are national security implications I can’t discuss with you, and which I’m not fully briefed on myself, but you can take it to the bank. Shane is being framed.”
    â€œBy who?”
    Bevins looks grim. “Unknown to me at present.”
    â€œWhy? What possible motive?”
    â€œAlso unknown.”
    â€œCome on, who took him? You must have some idea. Some theory.”
    â€œLots of ideas, no evidence. But I’ve been making noise, letting it be known that one of the FBI’s own has been detained, and that if he’s harmed we’ll be all over it.”
    Dane sits back. The place is packed, quite noisy, and nobody obvious is listening in to the conversation. “Can we speak normally for a bit? I can call you Monica?”
    â€œNot if you worked for me, but you don’t. Monica is fine for civilians. As to the conversation, proceed. I’ll stop you if we need to go SV.”
    â€œSV?”
    â€œSotto voce. With a hushed quality.”
    â€œGot it. Is that FBI lingo now?”
    Monica shakes her head, shows the hint of a smile. “Just me.”
    â€œInteresting,” Dane says, filing it away under Personal Eccentricities. Because she works for Naomi Nantz the file has numerous entries, starting with the boss. “So. You and Shane go way back.”
    Bevins nods, her eyes large. “All the way to boot camp at Quantico. I came in straight out of law school, he’d been on the FBI civilian side for a couple years as a technical expert, then decided to apply for Special Agent. We’re both big, so we got lumped together, sort of. I fell in love with him in about twenty minutes.”
    Dane is startled by the confession. “Seriously?”
    Bevins shrugs. “He was married, so I kept it to myself. He figured it out, of course. So he played it like we were going to be best friends. And you know what? That’s how it worked out in the long run. I got over the crush after a while, but never the friendship. Randall Shane is the bravest, truest, most decent human being I’ve ever known. Point one. You’re aware of his personal tragedy? Wife and daughter? Ever since, he’s devoted his life to rescuing children. Most of his cases are pro bono. Long as he’s got enough to put gas in that big fat car of his, he’s good to go. Therefore incorruptible as to financial temptation. Point two, to my certain knowledge he’s a red-blooded, salute-the-flag, die-for-your-country patriot who would never do anything to threaten the security of the good old U.S.A. Caveat: unless a child’s life is in danger, then it might get complicated.”
    â€œSo you believe there might be national security implications?”
    Bevins ever so casually checks the burger crowd to see if anybody is paying particular attention. Satisfied, she puts her elbows on the table, goes into sotto voce mode.
    â€œGenius physicist working on a top-secret project,who just so happens to have a secret Chinese mistress and a missing child? Of course there are national security implications. Not that any agency has admitted to involvement. And believe me, I’ve been asking. Like I said, making noise to let them know we know. Kicked in a few doors, metaphorically speaking. Folks look blank, shake their heads. Never heard of Shane, no business of snatching him in plain sight, cross their hearts and hope to die.”
    â€œSomebody made