Page 47 of A More Perfect Union

“Read the text ofthese three emails and give me your first impression.”

Rook started to tellEric to blurt it out or she was moving on, but she held her tongue in the faceof his earnest expression. She’d indulge him for five more minutes, but thenshe was pulling the plug on this little detour. She shifted her attention backto the screen and started reading. “The language is stiff, broken. Like theauthor is not a native English speaker.”

“Exactly.”

“So what you’resaying is the escorts at Lorraine Darcy might be well skilled in other areas,but drafting emails in English, not so much.”

“I’m saying way morethan that.” He pointed again at the redacted words. “There’s a pattern herewith the missing words. I’ve seen something like this before.” He startedbanging on the keyboard. “Hang on.” More typing. “Here it is. Take a look atthis.”

Rook stared at thescreen, the right side of the screen showing the emails from Mitchell’scomputer and the left a letter on some official looking letterhead with ascattered series of small redactions. The pattern didn’t make sense to her, butit was eerily similar. “What is this?”

“Bear with me becausethis is going to sound crazy.” Eric pushed his laptop to the side and facedthem. “It’s code.”

“I’ve seen somethinglike this before too,” Blake said, her eyes trained on the screen.

“I bet you have,”Eric replied. “I heard the CIA still trains their operatives in old-styleSoviet coding systems, you know, for historical perspective. Betcha didn’t knowthey were still using it.”

Harry struck hisknuckles on the table. “Hold up. Are you two trying to say Mitchell was workingfor the Russians?”

Rook kept staring atthe screen while the rest of her team started talking all at once. If Eric andBlake were right and they’d uncovered messages utilizing a Russian codingsystem, then this case had suddenly mushroomed into way more than her firm wasequipped to handle. She let them talk for a few more minutes then held up ahand to signal it was time for her to talk. “Eric, can you break the code?”

“Yes.”

“How long would ittake?”

“I can write aprogram—a few hours, tops. But if you want me to do that, I should get an air-gappedcomputer.”

“I have no idea whatthat means.”

“It’s a computerthat’s never been connected to the Internet. That way we can be sure that noone will get access to the information once the code is broken unless they havephysical possession of the computer.”

Rook paused, her mindspinning through a list of options. She could call Julia right now, set up ameeting and tell her what Eric had found. They’d turn over the emails and NSAhackers could break the code and let the White House know if there really wassome kind of Russian meddling with the Pentagon. And the Daniels Agency wouldbe free to go back to dealing with Senator Newman’s public relations nightmareand whatever new scandal was due to hit the evening news.

That’s what sheshould do. But once she turned the information over, she’d never know what themessages were or what they meant. Her other option was to have Eric break thecode here at the office. Once they knew what the messages were, they couldnotify Julia and assist with managing the fallout. The practical choice wasoption A.But then you might never know if Zoey was involved or in danger.

Did Zoey know aboutany of this? Why had Mitchell mentioned her specifically in his suicide note?Rook didn’t think she could let this go until she had more answers, butdepending on what this information was, hanging on to it could constitute afederal offense. She looked at the three faces staring at her and made a snapdecision. “I want to know what these messages say, but I have a feeling our clientwould prefer that we turn over the information we’ve got so far and let themsort it out. Whatever decision I make impacts all of us, so let’s take a vote.All in favor of stopping now and handing this off to whatever agency the WhiteHouse wants to involve, raise your hand.”

She waited, but everyone of them—the hacker, the lawyer, and the former CIA agent—sat perfectlystill, hands flat on the table. “Okay, then.” She pointed to Eric. “Someone gobuy this man a new computer.”

Chapter Sixteen

Zoey sat at herdesk with her eyes trained on the door, wishing she’d arranged to meet MajorRiley somewhere else. She’d managed to avoid Dixon most of the day, but hecould show up any minute and she wasn’t interested in discussing her theoriesabout Mitchell’s death with him.

Not that she had anyworkable theory. Mostly all she had was a hunch that Mitchell had left a cluein the letter he’d left behind. A clue meant for her and she was determined tosort it out, hopefully, with Major Jack Riley’s help. Like she’d conjured him,he poked his head in the partially open door. “Major Granger?”

“Come in, please. Andit’s Zoey.” She motioned for him to sit. “Thanks for coming by.”

“Happy to.” Hestepped into the room and pointed at the door. “You want this open or shut?”

“Closed is good.”

He shut the door andsettled into the chair in front of her desk. “I would have invited you to mycorner of the building, but there are a lot of gatekeepers. It’s definitelyeasier this way.”

Zoey cast a quicklook at his card that she had positioned on the corner of her desk and read thesingle word under his name. “Intelligence, like if you tell me what you reallydo, you have to kill me?”

He assumed a superserious expression. “Absolutely, but I don’t think I was even supposed to tellyou that much.” He broke into a smile. “To be honest, most of what I do ispretty boring. Analyst stuff.”

She wondered if thatwas really true, but played along. “Quite a change for you.”

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