launching a new internal investigation to find the ICE Phantom, whoever he is. And they’re starting with everyone on the bigot list with access to the vault.”
“Well, it’s about time! I wondered how many cases we’d have to lose before someone got a clue that we’ve got a problem. I mean I’m lying like a cheap toupee to protect our last source. How bad do the breaches have to get?”
“I heard they suspect he’s a CIA case officer, but they’re gonna put all of us on the box if one more FBI asset gets recalled to Moscow.”
“Put us on the box?!” J.J. yelped. She remembered where they were standing and lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’re kidding, right? This is a problem. A major major problem.”
Tony leered at J.J., confused. “A problem... for us ?” he asked. “I don’t understand.”
“Tony, we’re both cursed to the grave with Catholic guilt. And the only accurate information we’ve written in our Karat reports to Sabinski are the dates … sometimes . Do you think we have a snowball’s chance in hell of passing a polygraph? And if we tell the truth about our double reporting methods and Sabinski finds out...”
“Ahhh!”
“Exactly! And I don’t even want to think about what’ll happen if we fail ,” she said.
“We’d become the prime suspects for ratting out our own sources and get locked up.”
She shook her head. “That’s just for starters. Sources have been murdered because of this mole. Whoever gets arrested for these compromises isn’t just going to jail...or Supermax. We’re talking death penalty charges.”
Tony expelled a long heavy breath and glanced at J.J. Her shoulders curled forward and she swallowed hard.
“This is no time to breathe,” she said. “Say your Hail Marys and hope like hell Viktor left the drop so we can stop Jack before he drops the hammer on us.”
For some time, both she and Tony had been of the belief that Jack was the ICE Phantom. He’d been accessing files with no need-to-know, a narcissistic personality with an equally grandiose sense of self-importance, all smothered in a Grand Canyon-sized grudge. In his estimation, Bureau executives lacked sufficient intelligence to give him the senior executive position he believed he so richly deserved. His contempt for the Bureau was barely surface-deep.
Compromise. Ego. He displayed the classic motivations to commit espionage and seemed the most logical to turn. But they had little more to go on than a hunch.
Chapter 7
J .J.’s thoughts returned to Plotnikov as she contemplated on her conversation with Tony. Her stomach turned and fear flooded every crevice and pore. If Viktor didn’t make the drop, where was he? Where did Dmitriyev take him? She didn’t know if he’d return to the embassy—or in how many pieces. She was helpless and could do nothing except glance at her cell phone every thirty seconds, waiting on the lookouts to call. As much as J.J. despised the mere thought, she needed to inform Jack…as if he didn’t already know what happened.
Traitorous son of a bitch.
She relished in one small hope, the day she’d collect enough evidence to arrest him.
J.J. paused to mentally rehearse her speech when she saw them, smarmy agent Chris Johnson and his co-case agent Lana Michaels. She was a brunette, blue-eyed bombshell who exuded sex and sin. With his Tom Cruise looks and an added six inches in height, they were a match made in a Tommy Hilfiger underwear advertisement. One behind the other, they paced toward her, prepared to insert themselves into Tony’s and J.J.’s conversation.
J.J. huffed.
The mid-winter arctic was warmer than the relationship between J.J. and Lana. There was zero love lost between them. Zilch. Sentiments abundantly clear from the scorched glares they exchanged every time they were forced into each other’s presence.
As for Lana and Sabinski, well, they shared a mutual respect for one another. She kissed his ass, and he returned the favor.
“Well, it’s about time! I wondered how many cases we’d have to lose before someone got a clue that we’ve got a problem. I mean I’m lying like a cheap toupee to protect our last source. How bad do the breaches have to get?”
“I heard they suspect he’s a CIA case officer, but they’re gonna put all of us on the box if one more FBI asset gets recalled to Moscow.”
“Put us on the box?!” J.J. yelped. She remembered where they were standing and lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’re kidding, right? This is a problem. A major major problem.”
Tony leered at J.J., confused. “A problem... for us ?” he asked. “I don’t understand.”
“Tony, we’re both cursed to the grave with Catholic guilt. And the only accurate information we’ve written in our Karat reports to Sabinski are the dates … sometimes . Do you think we have a snowball’s chance in hell of passing a polygraph? And if we tell the truth about our double reporting methods and Sabinski finds out...”
“Ahhh!”
“Exactly! And I don’t even want to think about what’ll happen if we fail ,” she said.
“We’d become the prime suspects for ratting out our own sources and get locked up.”
She shook her head. “That’s just for starters. Sources have been murdered because of this mole. Whoever gets arrested for these compromises isn’t just going to jail...or Supermax. We’re talking death penalty charges.”
Tony expelled a long heavy breath and glanced at J.J. Her shoulders curled forward and she swallowed hard.
“This is no time to breathe,” she said. “Say your Hail Marys and hope like hell Viktor left the drop so we can stop Jack before he drops the hammer on us.”
For some time, both she and Tony had been of the belief that Jack was the ICE Phantom. He’d been accessing files with no need-to-know, a narcissistic personality with an equally grandiose sense of self-importance, all smothered in a Grand Canyon-sized grudge. In his estimation, Bureau executives lacked sufficient intelligence to give him the senior executive position he believed he so richly deserved. His contempt for the Bureau was barely surface-deep.
Compromise. Ego. He displayed the classic motivations to commit espionage and seemed the most logical to turn. But they had little more to go on than a hunch.
Chapter 7
J .J.’s thoughts returned to Plotnikov as she contemplated on her conversation with Tony. Her stomach turned and fear flooded every crevice and pore. If Viktor didn’t make the drop, where was he? Where did Dmitriyev take him? She didn’t know if he’d return to the embassy—or in how many pieces. She was helpless and could do nothing except glance at her cell phone every thirty seconds, waiting on the lookouts to call. As much as J.J. despised the mere thought, she needed to inform Jack…as if he didn’t already know what happened.
Traitorous son of a bitch.
She relished in one small hope, the day she’d collect enough evidence to arrest him.
J.J. paused to mentally rehearse her speech when she saw them, smarmy agent Chris Johnson and his co-case agent Lana Michaels. She was a brunette, blue-eyed bombshell who exuded sex and sin. With his Tom Cruise looks and an added six inches in height, they were a match made in a Tommy Hilfiger underwear advertisement. One behind the other, they paced toward her, prepared to insert themselves into Tony’s and J.J.’s conversation.
J.J. huffed.
The mid-winter arctic was warmer than the relationship between J.J. and Lana. There was zero love lost between them. Zilch. Sentiments abundantly clear from the scorched glares they exchanged every time they were forced into each other’s presence.
As for Lana and Sabinski, well, they shared a mutual respect for one another. She kissed his ass, and he returned the favor.
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