Support and Defend by Tom Clancy, Mark Greaney

counting heads Beth Morris spoke up again.
    “Is everyone who could have accessed it here?”
    “Thirty-one are here, actually. One sysadmin called in sick today, and two are on vacation. One is traveling abroad. I don’t have to tell anyone here that we take this breach incredibly seriously. More so now that it is quite possible lives have been lost due to the compromise.”
    The room came alive with crosstalk.
    Pak, the ADD from Asia, asked, “Do we know it was our leak that caused it? How do we know the Israelis don’t have a compromise of their own, or that the information about Yacoby could have been obtained some other way?”
    Delvecchio said, “No, we do not know our leak led to the deaths in India. But it doesn’t look good. Another file in the cache taken was a follow-up review of the CIA’s involvement in the raid, done just last year. This file did not mention Yacoby by name, but it stated the Shayetet colonel who led the raid had retired and moved to Paravur, India.”
    One of the staffers shook her head in disbelief. “Why the hell would they put that in the file?”
    “Apparently, CIA’s National Clandestine Service contracted the retired colonel for training purposes. He was some sort of a martial artist. The file said he could be reached to contribute to the review, although in the end he was never contacted.” Delvecchio cleared his throat. “The two pieces of the puzzle the Palestinians would need for yesterday’s assassination . . . those being the man’s name and his location, were both in the digital breach from the NSC. Again, we don’t know that’s how the Palestinians got the intel, but the President has been notified, and he has already made the decision to tell the Israeli prime minister about the compromise, so we need answers immediately.”
    Ethan Ross spoke up now. “Henry, you can be certain my department will conduct a full security review. I’m sure the other desks will conduct their own reviews.”
    Crossman spoke up before Delvecchio could answer. “That won’t be necessary.”
    “It’s protocol,” said Ethan.
    “It is protocol, but for a matter this delicate, where there is a possibility of a high-level leak of classified information, the security review will be conducted by DOJ. This flies way above desk level, Ethan.”
    There was some shock, a fresh din of indignant comments around the room.
    One of the IT guys mumbled something about the computer system’s antiquated architecture and weak safeguards against an inside attack. Another systems administrator tried to ask technical questions about the breach, but Crossman shut him down, saying the ongoing investigation precluded her from answering specifics.
    After several moments the murmurs in the conference room rose, and neither Henry Delvecchio nor Madeline Crossman seemed able to take back control. The fit man in the dark blue suit who had been standing silently behind them stepped to the lectern. Ethan thought he had a Clark Kent hairstyle and a build like an amateur bodybuilder.
    Under his breath, Ethan muttered. “Oh, shit. It’s a G.”
    Beth Morris’s tone was almost derisive as she asked, “And who are you?”
    “Supervisory Special Agent Darren Albright. FBI Counterintelligence Division.”
    “CID? Oh my God,” mumbled Morris. “We are being treated like criminals.”
    Albright shook his head calmly. His voice was soft but powerful, like a man indulgent of others, but barely so. “No, ma’am. You are not being treated like criminals. Trust me.” He eyed the room. “This isn’t how we treat criminals. I am working with Director Delvecchio to organize the polygraphs we’ve ordered in a manner that is least intrusive to the important work everyone here is doing.”
    Morris snorted. “If you aren’t treating us like criminals, what do you call dragging us into FBI polygraphs?”
    Albright spoke politely, but he didn’t smile. To Ross he didn’t seem the smiling type. “I call it treating