door. It wasn’t until he settled into the driver’s seatthat he saw it. A small yellow Post-it note stuck high up on the left side of the configurable instrument panel.
What the hell?
Some asshole had been in his car. But how? Freddy always locked it, and these new cars had more secure locks than older cars. Plus, whoever had broken in had relocked it. At least Freddy thought so. Thinking back on it, he was pretty sure he’d heard the door unlock as he approached.
He checked the glove box. His wallet was still there, no money or credit cards missing. Nothing else in the vehicle showed any sign of tampering. Just the yellow sticky note on the dash.
His hand reached forward, grabbed the yellow piece of paper by the corner, and pulled it free. Thirteen small, neatly printed words.
“Bigger than Henderson House. 6:15 p.m. Library of Congress foyer. I’ll find you.”
Worth every penny.
Freddy Hagerman wasn’t a big fan of government spending, but every once in a great while they got it right. Standing inside the entrance of the renovated Library of Congress, Freddy knew he was looking at one of those rare government projects. The Great Hall’s intricate arches surrounded a brass-inlaid wood floor, its grandeur breathtaking. Although he’d been in the Thomas Jefferson Building many times, it always affected him the same way.
Freddy glanced down at his watch. Six thirteen p.m. Time to get a move on, if he didn’t want to miss his appointment. And this was an appointment he didn’t want to miss.
Since fame had come calling, he couldn’t count the number of so-called “informants” who had tried to interest him in stories,all guaranteed to be the biggest thing he’d ever done. And even though Freddy could smell bullshit a mile away, just listening to these people had wasted more time than he cared to think about. It was why he no longer talked to anybody who hadn’t been vetted by Julia, his administrative assistant. But this was different. He had to admit that breaking into his car had gotten his attention. It had started his reporter’s nose itching. Now that itch had spread to his legs, getting them moving toward the center-most of five empty desks on the Main Reading Room’s second circle.
His butt had barely settled into the chair at his reading station when a woman slid into the chair to his left, bending over a large hardcover book, her salt-and-pepper hair neatly tied back in an academic ponytail, framing a profile that bespoke driven intelligence. Before he could speak, she shushed him.
“Don’t talk to me,” she said, her voice a barely audible whisper. “Keep your eyes on your desk, and for God’s sake, try to look studious.”
Freddy turned back to his desk. He didn’t have a book, so his Franklin Day Planner was going to have to do, if he didn’t want to stand out like a lighthouse on a foggy Cape Cod night. He flipped it open, pretending to study his upcoming appointment schedule.
The woman paused so long that Freddy began to wonder if he’d made a mistake. Then she began again, her voice even softer than before.
“I guess it’s best to start with a brief introduction. My name is Dr. Denise Jennings. For the last twenty-five years I’ve worked at the National Security Agency. Based upon that alone, everything I tell you is completely off the record. Your continued silence means you agree to these terms. If you don’t, just stand up and walk away, right now.”
Once again she paused, giving him time to consider.
“At this point in my career, all I want to do is make it to retirement, preferably alive and not in prison. Unfortunately, I’ve stumbled upon some information that I want nothing to do with. I should have washed my hands of the whole damned thing.”
She inhaled deeply, holding her breath a full two seconds before exhaling.
“Let’s get this straight, whatever you decide to do with this information, after tonight I’m done. I picked you to hand this off to
What the hell?
Some asshole had been in his car. But how? Freddy always locked it, and these new cars had more secure locks than older cars. Plus, whoever had broken in had relocked it. At least Freddy thought so. Thinking back on it, he was pretty sure he’d heard the door unlock as he approached.
He checked the glove box. His wallet was still there, no money or credit cards missing. Nothing else in the vehicle showed any sign of tampering. Just the yellow sticky note on the dash.
His hand reached forward, grabbed the yellow piece of paper by the corner, and pulled it free. Thirteen small, neatly printed words.
“Bigger than Henderson House. 6:15 p.m. Library of Congress foyer. I’ll find you.”
Worth every penny.
Freddy Hagerman wasn’t a big fan of government spending, but every once in a great while they got it right. Standing inside the entrance of the renovated Library of Congress, Freddy knew he was looking at one of those rare government projects. The Great Hall’s intricate arches surrounded a brass-inlaid wood floor, its grandeur breathtaking. Although he’d been in the Thomas Jefferson Building many times, it always affected him the same way.
Freddy glanced down at his watch. Six thirteen p.m. Time to get a move on, if he didn’t want to miss his appointment. And this was an appointment he didn’t want to miss.
Since fame had come calling, he couldn’t count the number of so-called “informants” who had tried to interest him in stories,all guaranteed to be the biggest thing he’d ever done. And even though Freddy could smell bullshit a mile away, just listening to these people had wasted more time than he cared to think about. It was why he no longer talked to anybody who hadn’t been vetted by Julia, his administrative assistant. But this was different. He had to admit that breaking into his car had gotten his attention. It had started his reporter’s nose itching. Now that itch had spread to his legs, getting them moving toward the center-most of five empty desks on the Main Reading Room’s second circle.
His butt had barely settled into the chair at his reading station when a woman slid into the chair to his left, bending over a large hardcover book, her salt-and-pepper hair neatly tied back in an academic ponytail, framing a profile that bespoke driven intelligence. Before he could speak, she shushed him.
“Don’t talk to me,” she said, her voice a barely audible whisper. “Keep your eyes on your desk, and for God’s sake, try to look studious.”
Freddy turned back to his desk. He didn’t have a book, so his Franklin Day Planner was going to have to do, if he didn’t want to stand out like a lighthouse on a foggy Cape Cod night. He flipped it open, pretending to study his upcoming appointment schedule.
The woman paused so long that Freddy began to wonder if he’d made a mistake. Then she began again, her voice even softer than before.
“I guess it’s best to start with a brief introduction. My name is Dr. Denise Jennings. For the last twenty-five years I’ve worked at the National Security Agency. Based upon that alone, everything I tell you is completely off the record. Your continued silence means you agree to these terms. If you don’t, just stand up and walk away, right now.”
Once again she paused, giving him time to consider.
“At this point in my career, all I want to do is make it to retirement, preferably alive and not in prison. Unfortunately, I’ve stumbled upon some information that I want nothing to do with. I should have washed my hands of the whole damned thing.”
She inhaled deeply, holding her breath a full two seconds before exhaling.
“Let’s get this straight, whatever you decide to do with this information, after tonight I’m done. I picked you to hand this off to
Similar Books
