It was silent, professional, and absolute.

I let out a slow breath.

I walked back to my desk.

The phone rang again.

This time it was Marco.

“We have them in the security office near the gate,” Marco said. “Marcus Vance is wet, angry, and demanding to see his lawyer.”

“Tell him he can see his lawyer when the FBI arrives,” I said.

“I have already notified Agent Miller,” Marco said. “He is on his way from Portland. He should be here by dawn.”

“And the other two men?” I asked.

“Hired muscle from Chicago,” Marco said. “They will not talk, but they do not have to. We have them on trespass and attempted kidnapping.”

“Keep them secure,” I said. “I will be down shortly.”

I put on a heavy woolen coat over my shirt.

The air in the hallway was cool.

I walked down the stairs and out into the wet night.

The rain hit my face, cold and sharp.

I walked across the gravel path to the security annex.

Inside, the lights were bright and fluorescent.

Marcus Vance sat in a metal chair, handcuffed to a table.