The line went dead.

The man by the sedan raised his hand, gesturing for me to wait.

Behind him, the sirens began to wail in the distance, heading toward the Capitol.

The man by the sedan stopped at the edge of the asphalt.

He lowered his tablet and adjusted his earpiece.

“Mrs. Harrington,” he said, his voice carrying over the rising rumble of the sirens.

“I am Captain Merritt,” he added. “General Albright sent me.”

I kept my hand on my purse, my fingers touching the heavy metal key inside.

“The voice on the phone said you don’t have the Maryland key,” I said.

Merritt nodded once, his face rigid.

“We have the physical vault, but we need the decryption ledger,” he said.

“The committee is waiting.”

He opened the rear door of the sedan.

The leather interior smelled of polish and cold air conditioning.

I stepped off the curb and got inside.

Merritt closed the door behind me and climbed into the front passenger seat.

The driver put the car in gear, and we pulled away from the curb.