Diana Reyes didn't waste time on small talk.
She pulled a tablet from her jacket, set it on the desk beside Victoria's laptop, and began pulling up files. Maps. Photographs. Names. A timeline that stretched back five years.
"I've been watching these people longer than you have," Diana said. "Not because I'm a hero. Because they made the mistake of trying to recruit me."
Nathaniel leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "When?"
"Three years ago. A month before Richard Chan died. Someone from Webb's organization approached me. Said they had a job. Private security. Generous retainer. All I had to do was look the other way when certain things happened."
"You said no."
"I said no. A week later, my bank account was frozen. Someone filed a false report with the IRS. I spent six months fighting to clear my name." Diana's jaw tightened. "By the time I won, my career was over. I retired. Started my own firm. And started digging."
Victoria studied the tablet screen. The photographs were surveillance shots—men and women entering buildings, getting into cars, meeting in restaurants. Some faces she recognized from the list. Others were new.
"Who are these people?" Victoria asked.
"Webb's operatives. Fixers. The ones who do the dirty work so the twelve names on your list don't have to." Diana zoomed in on a photo of a man in his forties, nondescript, the kind of face you'd forget immediately. "This is Marcus Webb's right hand. His name is Cole Vinson. Former military intelligence. No criminal record. No social media. No life outside of Webb."
"You've been following him?"
"He follows me. Or he did, until I got better at disappearing." Diana looked at Nathaniel. "You've met him. At least once."
Nathaniel frowned. "I don't remember."
"That's the point. He's forgettable. He was at Richard's funeral. Standing in the back. You walked right past him."
Nathaniel's face went pale. "I didn't see him."
"You weren't supposed to."
Victoria felt a chill run down her spine. "If Vinson is still watching, he knows we're here."
Diana shook her head. "I lost him two days ago. He's good, but he's not invisible. The question is whether Webb knows you have Richard's files yet."
"He doesn't," Victoria said. "If he did, we'd be dead."
"Maybe. Or maybe he's waiting to see what you do with them." Diana closed her tablet. "Here's what I propose. You give me the files. I take them to a contact in the Justice Department—someone I trust, someone not on Webb's payroll. They file a sealed indictment. Webb and his network are arrested simultaneously, before they have a chance to run."
"That's a lot of trust," Nathaniel said.
"It's the only play we have."
"There's always another play."
Diana's eyes narrowed. "Like what? You want to go to the press? They'll bury the story. Call the FBI? Half of them are on Webb's list. Run? You'll be looking over your shoulders for the rest of your lives."
"She's right," Victoria said quietly.
Nathaniel turned to her. "You trust her?"
"I trust the math." Victoria looked at Diana. "The Justice Department contact. Who is it?"
"His name is Martin Rhodes. He's a deputy attorney general. Twenty years of service. No scandals. No connections to Webb that I can find."
"And if he's dirty?"
"Then we're all dead. But I've vetted him. Twice. He's clean."
Victoria nodded slowly. "What's the timeline?"
"Rhodes is in D.C. tomorrow. I can set up a meeting. But you need to come with me. Both of you. He'll want to hear it from the source."
Nathaniel pushed off from the wall. "No."
"Diana's right," Victoria said again. "We can't do this alone."
"We don't know her."
"You don't know anyone. Neither do I. But we're out of options."
The room was silent. The flickering light from the parking lot cast long shadows on the walls.
Nathaniel looked at Victoria for a long moment. Then he looked at Diana.
"If this is a trap," he said, "I'll make sure you regret it."
Diana didn't flinch. "Noted."
---
They left the motel at dawn.
Diana drove a black SUV with tinted windows. Victoria sat in the back with the laptop bag on her lap. Nathaniel rode shotgun, his eyes on the rearview mirror, watching for tails.
D.C. was three hours away. Diana took back roads, avoiding highways and tolls. She drove the speed limit, signaled at every turn, and never once looked nervous.
Victoria watched her in the rearview mirror.
"Who else knows about this meeting?" Victoria asked.
"No one. Rhodes thinks he's meeting an anonymous source. I didn't give him names."
"And if he asks?"
"Then I tell him the truth. But not until I'm sure."
Victoria leaned back against the seat. The leather was cold. The SUV smelled like coffee and old paper.
She thought about her father. About the house on Maple Street. About the life she'd lost and the life she was building now.
She didn't know if she was doing the right thing. She didn't know if Diana could be trusted. She didn't know if Nathaniel would survive the week.
But she knew one thing: she was done running.
---
They arrived in D.C. at 10:47 AM.
Diana parked in an underground garage near the Justice Department. She killed the engine and turned to face them.
"From here, we walk. Rhodes's office is three blocks away. No weapons. No bags. Just you, me, and the files."
"The laptop stays with me," Victoria said.
"Then hide it. Put it in a shopping bag. Look like a tourist."
Victoria pulled a canvas tote from her backpack—she'd learned to always carry one—and slipped the laptop inside. The external drive went into her jacket pocket.
Nathaniel checked his phone. No messages. No missed calls.
"Let's go," he said.
They walked out of the garage and into the D.C. morning.
The streets were crowded. Office workers in suits. Tourists with cameras. Vendors selling coffee and pretzels. Victoria kept her head down, the tote bag swinging at her side.
Diana led them through a security checkpoint at the Justice Department's visitor entrance. Victoria's ID was checked. Nathaniel's was checked. The tote bag went through an X-ray machine.
The guard looked at the laptop. "Business?"
"Personal," Victoria said.
The guard nodded and waved them through.
They took the elevator to the seventh floor. Diana led them down a long hallway lined with doors. At the end of the hallway, a receptionist sat behind a glass desk.
"Diana Reyes for Martin Rhodes."
The receptionist checked a tablet. "He's expecting you. Go right in."
Diana pushed open the door.
Martin Rhodes was younger than Victoria expected—early forties, clean-shaven, with the kind of face that belonged on a recruiting poster. He stood when they entered, walked around his desk, and extended his hand.
"Diana. Good to see you."
"You too, Martin."
Rhodes looked at Victoria, then at Nathaniel. His expression didn't change, but his eyes lingered on Nathaniel a beat too long.
"You're Nathaniel Cross," Rhodes said.
"Yes."
"I've read about you."
"Most of it wasn't true."
Rhodes smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Let's sit. Diana says you have something I need to see."
Victoria set the tote bag on the desk and pulled out the laptop. She opened it, pulled up the list, and turned the screen toward Rhodes.
He read it in silence. His face remained neutral, but his knuckles went white where his hands rested on the desk.
"Where did you get this?" he asked.
"From a dead man," Victoria said. "His name was Richard Chan. He was Nathaniel's CFO. He was murdered."
Rhodes looked up. "Murdered?"
"Heart attack at forty-nine. The same week he told Nathaniel not to trust anyone. The same week someone stole his hard drives. The same week his safe deposit box was emptied and refilled with a false confession."
Rhodes sat back. He rubbed his face with both hands.
"This is... this is huge," he said. "If even half of this is true—"
"It's all true," Diana said. "I've verified the transactions. The shell companies. The names. It's all there."
Rhodes was quiet for a long moment. Then he stood up, walked to the door, and locked it.
"You understand what you're asking me to do," he said.
"We're asking you to do your job," Nathaniel said.
"My job is to follow the law. The law says I need probable cause. This"—he gestured to the laptop—"is probable cause. But the people on this list? They have friends. Powerful friends. If I move too fast, I lose. If I move too slow, you lose."
"So what do you propose?" Victoria asked.
Rhodes walked back to his desk. He pulled out a notepad and a pen.
"I propose we start with one name. The smallest fish. We flip them. We build a case. And then we go after the rest."
"Who's the smallest fish?"
Rhodes scanned the list. He pointed to a name Victoria didn't recognize.
"Her. Olivia Park. She's a mid-level accountant at a firm that does business with Webb. No political connections. No protection. She'll fold the moment we pressure her."
"Then let's pressure her," Diana said.
Rhodes nodded. "I'll set up a meeting. Tomorrow. But you three need to disappear until then. No hotels. No phones. No contact with anyone."
"We know a place," Diana said.
Rhodes looked at Nathaniel. "One more thing."
"What?"
"If this goes sideways, I don't know you. None of you. You understand?"
Nathaniel nodded. "We understand."
Rhodes unlocked the door. Diana walked out first. Victoria followed, the tote bag in her hand.
Nathaniel paused at the door.
"Thank you," he said.
"Don't thank me yet," Rhodes replied. "Thank me when we're all still alive."