Chapter 9: The Anatomy of a Cover-Up
Back in the main room, Miller was pacing back and forth across the concrete floor, his trench coat swishing with every turn. Julian sat slumped in his chair, staring blankly at the floor as if trying to dissolve into the concrete.
The heavy door swung open, and Elinor walked out, her expression cold and unreadable. She didn't look at Julian. She walked straight to the table where Miller had laid out a series of decrypted printouts from the agency's internal comms network.
"She broke?" Miller asked, tossing his cigarette into the plastic cup.
"She didn't have to," Elinor said, picking up a red marker and circling a series of routing numbers on the printout. "She confirmed the timeline. The Deep River leak wasn't just about selling names on the dark web. It was a structural purge. The committee is dismantling the entire old guard—people who remember what the agency was before it became a private equity firm for retired politicians and defense contractors."
Miller leaned over her shoulder, his eyes scanning the circled numbers. "These routing numbers belong to Vanguard Logistics. That’s a front company for the oversight committee's slush fund."
"Exactly," Elinor said. "They needed a scapegoat with high-level clearance and a compromised domestic profile to take the fall for the purge. That’s why Julian was targeted three years ago. That’s why they cultivated him, fed him low-level paranoia, and used him to harvest my biometrics while I slept."
Julian flinched at the sound of his own name. He looked up, his eyes bloodshot and desperate. "They said it was just a compliance audit, Elinor. They said if I didn't help them mirror your token, you’d be investigated for treason anyway. They gave me no choice."
"You always had a choice, Julian," Elinor said without anger, which somehow made it worse. "You just chose the path of least resistance because you were too cowardly to face the consequences of standing beside me."
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Miller turned away from the printouts, his face grave. "We don't have time for marital counseling. If Beatrice’s handlers realize she’s trapped here, they won't send a rescue team. They’ll send a clean-up crew with thermite charges to burn this entire warehouse to the waterline. We need to move."
"We aren't running anymore," Elinor said, setting the red marker down with a sharp click. "We’re going to Langley."
