“When...when did this happen?” J.J. asked, overcome with shock. She’d witnessed Jack choke down a lot of food in her time, but never his just desserts. Finally, they’d been served on a hot platter. Her joy swelled. Had she sufficient floor space, she’d have turned a cartwheel and a backflip or two.

  “Only moments ago. Apparently he failed his polygraph exam so badly Cartwright got an emergency search warrant. They found the evidence at his house in less than an hour. A hundred thousand dollars in cash beneath a floor panel in the basement. Some Top Secret documents, trash bags, chalk...you know the drill.”

  I knew it! I knew it! J.J. thought. She’d suspected him all along. It made perfect sense. All those days he’d accused her of compromising her own sources and he’d been the one selling out the Bureau to the Russians the whole time. While her stomach soured at the thought of the information that he potentially had passed to his handler, at least the mystery had been solved.

  Tony and J.J. eyed each other knowingly.

  She continued. “Yeah. The AD and Freeman revoked everybody’s vault access and ordered that we all take polys. Jack failed.”

  “No one’s informed us yet,” J.J. said. One of Tony’s buddies had passed some RUMINT, rumor-based intelligence, but they hadn’t officially been notified.

  “Yeah, well apparently everything happened pretty quickly. They’d planned to notify us today, and I believe they’re still going through with them.”

  “So, how do you know?” J.J. asked.

  Lana’s mouth fell open, she touched her throat. “Uhhh...Someone told Chris.”

  “Shit!” J.J. yelped as she pressed her fingers against her eye. Lana had lied, and the itching intensified. She couldn’t take it, would’ve clawed her own eyes out with her fingernails if she could. J.J. bent and placed the briefcase on the floor, tried to blink through the tears streaming from her eyes.

  “J.J., what happened?” Lana asked.

  “You okay?” Tony asked as she stooped over to get a look at her eyes. She couldn’t blink them open and so she held them closed until the sensation passed.

  “I’m…I’m okay, now. Just an allergic reaction to this new eyeliner I tried out this morning.”

  “You don’t wear eyeliner,” Tony piped in.

  J.J.’s snarl pierced him; he shut up.

  Tony looked at J.J. suspiciously, his expression skeptical, unbelieving. A few seconds later, Chris walked up behind Lana.

  “Guess you guys heard about Jack, huh? Good ridden, if you ask me. Fat bastard. I hope he gets the death penalty. I’d love to see him roast.”

  Chapter 16

  Early Friday Evening…

  Although their loathing for Jack was quite mutual, J.J. didn’t understand Chris’s reaction. Why had he had expressed so much hatred for Jack? After all, he was teamed up with Jack’s golden girl. Everything Jack did to benefit Lana, inevitably benefited Chris. He should’ve been near tears as was Lana.

  Lana’s reaction, her fear, was understandable. She didn’t want the Bureau to hire a new supervisor whom she couldn’t control with her breasts, who wouldn’t excuse her ineptness. And if justice existed anywhere in the world, the AD would replace Jack with a woman, a straight woman who wouldn’t give a damn about the height of her skirt, the depth of her splits, or the volume of silicone in her cleavage.

  Lana’s head snapped around toward Chris and she glared at him, a fire brewing on her tongue. But instead of exploding, she yielded. “I’m off to take my poly now. See you guys later.”

  Chris watched her hips sway as she walked way. “Good luck with that.” He turned to Tony and J.J. “They booked him in Alexandria, and I hear he’s not talking.”

  “Not talking? There’s something new and different,” Tony quipped. “Well, I’m sure they’ll get some agents from Washington Field out there to grill him before long.”

  Chris shifted his glance to J.J. “Oh, by the way, Cartwright wants to see you in his office immediately. He told me to let you know as soon as you arrived. Said you should just go on upstairs.”

  “Me and Tony? Or just me?”

  “He didn’t mention Tony. Just you.”

  “About what?”

  Chris shrugged. “I have no idea; he didn’t say. Why don’t you get up there and find out?” he asked as he walked away.

  J.J. faced Tony, her distress visible. Why in hell would he want to speak to me without Tony there? she asked herself. She didn’t understand.

  “Guard this with your life,” she sitting the briefcase next to Tony’s feet. “I’m going to head upstairs and see what he wants.”

  He leaned in and whispered, “You gonna tell him about the drop?”

  J.J. bit her bottom lip, unsure of her response. “I honestly don’t know right now.” J.J. scanned the area to ensure no one was listening. “I mean, I realize we’d planned to tell him. But if Lana passes her polygraph today then he’s going to order us to turn all of the information over to her. Let’s just wait and find out what he has to say.”

  • • •

  J.J. tugged on her suit jacket to smooth out the wrinkles as she approached Cartwright’s open office door. When she peered through the threshold, he was standing next to a cabinet safe, flipping through some files. Jim glanced up just as she opened her mouth to speak.

  “Ah, Agent McCall. Come in. Have a seat.” He moved back toward his desk and slipped into his chair. A sullen expression blanketed his usual jovial appearance. He seemed pensive, more intense.

  She took a seat in the guest chair, nervous and somewhat anxious. She had no idea why he’d asked to meet with her. Maybe he’d heard Jack had harassed her in the past.

  “So I guess you’re wondering why I called you here this morning,” he asked.

  “Uhhh…yes, sir. The question had crossed my mind.”

  “I’m assuming you’ve heard about Jack’s arrest,” he asked matter-of-factly. The supervisor of her unit had been arrested for espionage. Of course she’d heard. She struggled to contain her elation.

  “Yes, sir. Agent Michaels told me the bad news just a few minutes ago. She didn’t give me any details though.”

  “His polygrapher called me yesterday during his exam to express some serious concerns. He failed his poly and failed it miserably. I asked Director Freeman to request an emergency search warrant and sent an evidence team out to his house. Minutes into the search, we found a hundred grand in cash, trash bags, chalk, duct tape and several case files, including one for Karat.”

  Minutes into the search? J.J. found that odd. As an FBI counterintelligence agent, especially one who had helped draft the Hanssen damage assessment, seems he could’ve done a better job of concealing the dirt under the carpet so-to-speak. But she shrugged it off and inhaled deeply. Her only comfort was that Sabinski didn’t have the real case file. He’d taken the one with the doctored reporting inside. A surge of anger burst through her as she thought about his accusations, his indictment on her father’s and Tony’s father’s pasts. Nothing but the pot calling the kettle black.

  Still she had to perform for effect.

  “My God.” J.J. pressed her hand against the chest. “But I’ve had my suspicions. I saw him reading the file yesterday and he hadn’t logged it out.”

  “Is that right?” Cartwright responded.

  “Yes, sir. He called me in to tell me Karat had been recalled to Moscow.”

  A thousand pounds of uncomfortable silence hovered between them before Cartwright spoke again.

  “I’m afraid Jack refuses to talk. After we booked him, he evoked his Fifth Amendment rights and clammed up. He’s hardly said two words together since. Except...he’s, uhhh, he’s asked to speak to you. And you alone.”

  J.J. drew her head back stiffly then cocked it to the side. She wouldn’t have been more surprised if Cartwright stripped naked, sprouted wings, and flew out the window. Cartwright’s statement struck J.J. as among the most bizarre ever spoken to her in life. Why in hell would Jack want to speak to her? She’d be the first person to pull the switch if he got the chair.

  “Me? W-why me?”

  “That’s what Director Freeman and I would like to know,” Cartwright responded.

  Confused, J.J. shook her head. Her instincts refused his request long before she could speak the words. “You don’t understand. Jack and I have a very contentious relationship, to say the least. Now, I hadn’t previously come forward with complaints. We both know that’s a useless exercise in this place. But, please understand, we have nothing to say to one another. And trust me, anything he might say to me wouldn’t be worth listening to.”

  Cartwright sat forward in his chair. “J.J., you and I both know headquarters isn’t that big, and I’ve known Jack since the Academy. Trust me, I’m well aware of that river of bad blood between you two.”

  “Well, that’s the biggest understatement since the discovery of fire.”

  He half chuckled. “Jack’s reputation precedes him, but I need you to talk to him. The Bureau needs you to speak with him. We’ve got to find out as much as possible about his cooperation. We can’t begin our damage assessments without his statements. And our secure intelligence collection channels are still vulnerable. Most importantly, we must adjust our HUMINT operations—both in the Bureau and throughout the community—so we don’t lose anymore sources. This is a mission imperative.”

  J.J. began to waver against her own will. She looked down at her lap to gather the strength to fortify her resolve, but to no avail. If nothing else, she owed it to her dead sources and their families to listen to what Jack had to say. She didn’t need to say much in return. And the visit would offer her a prime opportunity to do something she’d wanted to do for years, gloat and relish in his misery. As she contemplated her concession, the thought of Jack bound in handcuffs brought her a fountain of joy. She needed no more convincing.

  “I’m asking you to do this as a favor to me. Hear him out, report back to me, and you’re done. You never need to see or speak to him again as far as I’m concerned.”

  She hesitated, for the sake of show, and then blew out a long breath. “Okay, okay. I’ll meet him. But if he so much as blinks the wrong way, with all due respect to you, Mr. Cartwright, he’s going to be begging for the death penalty.”

  Chapter 17

  Saturday Morning…

  As she arrived on the edge of the bourgeois Northern Virginia suburbs, she couldn’t wait for her visit with Jack to end. For J.J., time crept by, the entire morning dragged. Why me? she asked herself again and again, like a tired, broken record. Her burgeoning anxiety was irritating at best, so she leaned on Belvedere despite her promise to Tony. Only a small sip though, just enough to soothe the nerves and loosen the tongue. The tongue lashing she planned to deliver to her traitorous boss must not be tempered by common sense or conscience.

  Except for the barbed wire and armed correctional officers, the state jail looked more like luxury condos than a place to imprison hardened criminals. She took a deep breath, flashed her credentials, and ambled inside the detention facility, dreading the moment she’d be forced to see his face, hear his voice. Her heart thanked Tony. He was already inside waiting on her to arrive, refused to let her go it alone.

  A sheriff led her through a series of security doors to the interrogation room where Jack awaited her arrival. The door buzzed, and the lock popped before she walked inside. Her teeth ground as she headed toward her seat, the one farthest from him and closest to the exit.

  Jack sat solemn, pensive, shackled at the wrist. He rapped his hands on the table and waited for J.J. to sit down and speak. Seemed relieved, a feeling that no doubt dissipated when he realized the sentiment was in no way mutual.

  “Jack,” she spat, unsmiling and cold. She fought the urge to tell him how well he looked in orange. She couldn’t force even a microscopic modicum of sympathy, not after he’d destroyed so many lives and treated her like shit for so many years.

  “Didn’t think you’d show up,” he replied, in no position to spout his usual venomous remarks.

  She pursed her lips and folded her arms across her chest, gave him “The Hand” with her hardened stare. “If Cartwright hadn’t asked me to come, trust me I wouldn’t have bothered. Now can we please dispense with the idle pleasantries? Tell me whatever it is that you need to say so I can get the hell out of here. Confinement depresses me.”

  Jack’s shame-filled gaze fell onto the table. He nodded and laced his fingers together. “The thing is...”

  Then nothing. For seconds that seemed like hours, nothing.

  Her patience had dwindled to non-existence, especially given that he’d done nothing but show her his ass over the years. She couldn’t wait to show him hers.

  Karma’s a bitch.

  J.J. had already decided to vacate the premises if she experienced even the slightest hint of an itch, any minor discomfort. He could spout his lies to someone stupid enough to believe him, find someone else with whom to share his sob story. She had a source to save and neither the time nor patience for his bullshit.

  “You had every reason not to come here today. And now you have every reason to leave, but I’m asking you to please hear me out.” He rubbed his hands together in a rapid, nervous motion. “Nothing is what it seems.”

  What’s this? she thought.

  Jack’s shoulders slumped and red veins peppered his eyes. He appeared sleepless and pathetic—not a good look. “I know I’ve been a prick.”

  “Uhhhh . . . correction,” she interrupted, wagging her index finger. “A racist prick.” Her hand began to tremble so she clasped both together under the table. She attributed the shaking to her welling anger toward Jack.

  He nodded and hung his head in shame. “All right. I’ll accept that. I’m a lot of things, not all of them good. But God as my witness I’m not a spy.”

  Please, Lord, bring on the itch.

  Anything.

  She hoped, wished, and prayed. Just one little sign that he was lying. She’d dash out of the interrogation room so fast there’d be nothing left but skid marks and vapors.

  She waited and waited. And waited and waited.

  Nothing.

  Son of a bitch!

  He lifted his head and locked his eyes squarely onto hers, didn’t falter, didn’t back down, didn’t cower in the face of her evident doubt. “Somebody framed me, J.J. and I think it may be someone close to us.”

  She shot him a skeptical glare and turned her head toward Tony. She knew he stood behind the one-way glass, listening to every word. He’d never believe Sabinski. J.J.’s only consolation was that Tony would stand behind her no matter what she did. That was the nature of their relationship, something she could always depend on. “What about the poly? You failed miserably. Twice I might add.”

  “I don’t know what to say. They hooked me up and my heart wouldn’t stop racing. Never happened to me before. I have no idea what could’ve caused me to experience such a reaction.”

  J.J. wanted so desperately to tell him that being a mean bastard who pops Snickers bars like popcorn might have something to do with his condition, but she resisted the temptation. After all, her snide remarks would serve no useful purpose and certainly wouldn’t repair the damage he’d done to her career or her sources.

  “Did you take any drugs, alcohol, or anything that might’ve caused a negative physiological reaction?” she asked.

  “No, nothing that I didn’t report.”

  Still no reaction, she thought. Damn! He’d probably never been this honest in his life and just as J.J.’s luck would have it, he batted a thousand at that moment.

  “What about the money? I’m told your prints were all over the bag.”

  He exhaled, cupped his reddened face in his hands. “I don’t know what to tell you except that I buy trash bags for the house. Maybe the person who framed me got a hold of one I’d touched and used it to hide the money. Trust me, if I had all that cash, I wouldn’t be living in that piece of shit house or driving my piece of shit car, that’s for certain.”

  Even if he was lying to himself, he certainly believed he was telling the truth. Still no reaction, much to J.J.’s dismay.

  “After everything you’ve said to me, put me through, do you really expect me to trust a word you say? To help you?”

  Without hesitation, he nodded.

  “Guard!” J.J. called out. “Could we get this man an ice pack, please?”

  “Ice pack?” Jack asked.

  “Yes,” she snapped. “Because you’ve bumped your head if you think for one moment I’m going to risk what’s left of my shitty little career—no small thanks to you—to help save yours!”

  Jack wrung his hands together, desperation seeped through his pores.

  “The FBI has a mole. And this one is even more dangerous than Hanssen.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “It’s not me!”

  She cut him a wicked sideways glance. “We’ve been trying to tell you about this problem for years. And you didn’t want to listen, at least not until the chicken came home to roost. Now it’s roosting like a motherfucker, huh?”

  “J.J., he’s compromising every sensitive HUMINT operation we’re running. At this rate, all FBI assets will dry up. We’ll never get another well-placed recruitment. Human intelligence in the FBI, as we know it, will cease to exist. This is serious. It’s no game. And it’s because of our history that you’re the only one I can trust…if you agree to help me.”

  Everything in J.J. wanted to smirk, but deep down she knew Jack had finally come to his good senses. He’d spoken a lot of hard truth. Nobody would trust working with FBI counterintelligence. The Bureau’s foreign partners would no longer share intelligence. The CIA was just looking for a reason to cut the Bureau off from their most sensitive human intelligence. The FBI would be isolated and unable to effectively conduct any kind of intelligence operation. And at the end of the day, the country would suffer most for it. Even though J.J. knew her days at the Bureau were numbered and she fought every urge to give a damn, the truth could not be denied.