Page 53 of Code Name: Admiral

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

“I should be asking you that.”

“I’m better with you here.”

We gathered in the main room, joined by Diesel and Tank. The tension was palpable as we waited. I noticed how they positioned themselves—casual-looking but tactical, covering all angles of approach. These men were professionals at the highest level, and it showed in every move they made.

When Grit arrived, his expression was grim. “The briefing was more concerning than anticipated,” he said without preamble. “They’re forming a higher-level task force to investigate Sarah’s death—and any potential connections to bureau personnel.”

“Which is sending a resounding alert to whoever the mole is that we’re onto them. Who’s leading it?” Pershing snapped.

“Assistant Director Huxley, internal affairs, retired.”

I felt Pershing stiffen beside me. “Huxley?”

“Exactly.” Grit’s eyes met mine briefly before returning to Pershing’s. “They’re also questioning your involvement, Admiral. Your connection to Bobby Kane has raised concerns about potential compromise.”

“Convenient timing,” I muttered, my mind racing through the implications. It was too neat, too orchestrated.

“There’s more,” Grit continued. “They’re monitoring all bureau communications, especially anything related to the Castellanos. And they’re particularly interested in any off-the-books operations.”

The implications were clear—they were mirroring both my investigation and Sarah’s. At least as much as they could find. I thought about my sister’s hidden messages, the breadcrumbs she’d left. No doubt she’d anticipated something like this. Depending on who the mole was, he or she might be in a position to wipe damning evidence, but wouldn’t they know it was already too late?

Then what? The answer was immediately obvious. They’d seek to discredit my sister, me, Pershing, and the K19 team. Theymight even plant false evidence, linking one or all of us to the leaks.

The good news was, recognizing the possibility, I could stay on the front end of whatever they attempted. There was no question in my mind that I was better at what I did than anyone the FBI had on board. I mean, what technology geek who was any good at what they did would settle for the kind of salary the federal bureau offered when they could make ten times as much out on their own? Even if they used an outside contractor, the inherent risks to their credibility and future projects would limit the pool of those willing to accept the work.

“What about your conversation with Doc and Merrigan?” Pershing asked, his voice carefully neutral.

Grit’s expression shifted subtly. “They shared some interesting intel about money movements through shell companies linked to both the Castellanos and certain government officials. The pattern matches what Sarah documented.”

Something in his delivery set off warning bells in my mind. From the way Pershing’s shoulders tightened, I knew he felt it too.

It made no sense that they’d share anything with a man who could very well be the mole. The only thing that made sense was that they were feeding him false data to see what he did with it. Wouldn’t Grit have suspected that was the case?

“Show me,” I said, moving to my computer setup. “If there are matching patterns, I can cross-reference them with what I’ve found.”

Grit hesitated for a fraction of a second—so brief I might have missed it if I hadn’t been watching closely. “I’ll request the files be sent over secure channels.”

“No need. I can access them directly.”

The room went silent except for the sound of my fingers on the keyboard. I could feel everyone watching as I called his bluff.

Instead of searching for something I wasn’t certain was even there and wouldn’t find this quickly if it was, I pulled up other evidence I’d stumbled on right before Grit arrived. Again, if he was the mole, he would already know what I was about to reveal. He’d also realize his precarious position was getting more so with every passing minute. How would he react?

One possibility was he’d go on the offensive, perhaps even resorting to violence. While he was outnumbered by Admiral, Diesel, and Tank, I doubted he’d picked up on the fact that three more of K19’s operatives had arrived silently and positioned themselves strategically behind him.

“Is this what they shared?” I asked, highlighting a series of transactions I knew full well weren’t it. It was my own data. “This shows a pattern of payments from Castellano-controlled companies to offshore accounts. The only difference between these and what I found is that the money is being laundered through government contractors.”

Pershing leaned in to study the screen. “Those are bureau vendors.”

“Exactly.” I pulled up another window. “Based on this, someone has been selling information, using legitimate government contracts as cover.”

I glanced at Grit, who was studying the data with an unreadable expression. Was it my imagination, or did he seem uncomfortable?

“We need to move carefully with this,” he said. “We can’t tip our hand too soon.”

“Agreed,” said Pershing. “Especially considering the task force might not be what it appears.”

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