“We can get you out of here,” I said. “There’s an ambulance bay on the lower level. Mara and I can carry you.”

He shook his head, a weak, definitive gesture.

“No,” he said. “I’m not leaving this room, Natalie. We both know that.”

“Don’t talk like that,” I said, my voice cracking slightly.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice rising with a sudden, desperate energy. “There is no time. Voss is going to clean this place out.”

From the doorway, Mara called out.

“Natalie, we have movement on the security feed down the hall.”

“How long?” I called back.

“Two minutes, maybe less,” Mara said. “They’re moving in from the eastern access tunnels.”

I turned back to my father.

“Dad, we have to move now,” I said.

“No,” he said, his hand suddenly gripping my wrist with surprising strength. “You need the data. You need to stop them.”

“The FBI has the files from the New York office,” I said. “Mara has enough to start an investigation.”

“It’s not enough,” Raymond said. “The financial records, the names of the senators who signed off on the black budget—it’s all locked.”