“We will,” Harris said, closing his leather folder. “As soon as we clear the area.”

The rain outside seemed to intensify, drumming hard against the glass panes of the high windows.

The helicopter rotors outside began to slow down, their deep thrumming dropping to a high whine.

“What happens to the project now?” Carter asked, looking at the empty space where Turner had stood.

“It goes back to the drawing board,” I said. “Without the lies this time.”

I walked over to the desk and picked up the command insignia Harris had discarded.

The black thread was slightly frayed at the edges.

It felt cold and heavy in my hand.

“We need to go down to the docks,” I said to Hayes.

“I’ll drive,” Hayes said.

We left the communications room, leaving the federal agents to secure the servers.

The hallway was empty now, the bright fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.

We walked down the concrete stairs and out into the wet night air.

The wind off the Thames River was sharp and smelled of salt and diesel fuel.

My boots splashed through deep puddles on the asphalt.