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“I know you’re hiding things,” Paige said bluntly. “That’s not necessarily a problem. Unless what you’re concealing is going to end up hurting my team. If that’s the case, you better confess now, because I swear I’ll bring the wrath of the Lord down on your head if anyone gets hurt.”
Cody’s eyes widened slightly at her vehemence. He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Whoa, Paige. You’re right, I do have a few secrets. But nothing that will hurt your team, or Jason. You can trust me on that. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I want the Consortium taken down as bad as any of you. Worse, maybe.”
Paige studied his face, searching for any sign of deception. Part of her wanted desperately to believe him, but the stakes were too high to take anything on faith alone.
Not that she had a choice.
21
A few minutes before noon,the sun beat down on the red sandstone walls of the Smithsonian Castle, its Gothic Revival architecture a stark contrast to the modern bustle of Washington DC. The city hummed with the energy of a typical workday.
They planned the strike to begin just before the lunch hour. The admin employees inside would be hungry and ready for those sixty golden moments to themselves. It was the perfect time to slip in unnoticed.
Paige smoothed down her blazer and tried not to notice the way the unfamiliar pantyhose stuck to her legs. She glanced at Bridger, noting the way he fidgeted with his tie. For all his skills, the man couldn’t hide his discomfort in formal wear. Around the corner, just out of sight, she knew Cody was waiting, ready to follow them in and provide backup if needed.
They headed past the work van with the plumbing company logo and crossed the lawn, approaching the front doors.
“Ready to rock this?” Bridger asked.
When she nodded, he cleared his throat and raised his voice a touch too loud, playing up their cover as government accountants. “Watch Torkleson,” he warned, making sure hisvoice carried to the guards standing duty just outside the carved wooden entry doors. “He’s sharp for a deputy administrator. Sneaky, too.”
Paige tightened her grip on her computer bag. “Absolutely, Mr. Johnson.”
As they approached the Castle’s main entrance, Paige took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead. The guards eyed their government-issued badges and stepped aside, one man opening the door for them.
Immediately, an unmistakable odor of sewage wafted out, assaulting their senses. Paige had to bite back a smile. Fenn and Kate were already on it, their distraction tactic working perfectly.
Maintaining their composure, they stepped into the building. As they walked through the spectacular Commons room with its soaring, arched ceilings, Paige’s mind raced, mapping out their route and potential escape paths.
Ahead of them, a patient-looking middle-aged woman with silver curls looked up from behind a glass counter, displays of tourist maps at each elbow. Nose wrinkled against the stench, she offered a valiant welcome smile. Bridger, unlike his normal, polite self, ignored her, rushing straight past without even a glance. The woman’s smile faltered. With their government ID badges swinging from around their necks, they clearly weren’t tourists looking for guidance. Still.
Paige shot the older lady an embarrassed look. “Don’t mind him, ma’am. He’s in a hurry.”
“I understand,” the woman smiled, a pretty, genuine expression. “Civil Service isn’t what it used to be. You poor folks look so stressed these days. I hope your meeting goes well, dear.”
Paige smiled in agreement and hurried to catch up with Bridger. If the woman only knew.
She leaned in close to Bridger as they approached the security checkpoint between the public exhibit rooms and the working heart of the building, matching his quick strides.
Bridger stiffened as he approached the security checkpoint. She admired his ability to transform his demeanor, his face now a mask of mild bureaucratic irritation. The guard, a stocky man with thinning hair, looked up from his computer with a bored expression.
“Afternoon,” Bridger said crisply. Paige noted the perfect blend of impatience and authority in his voice. He tapped the plastic id badge hanging from his neck. “We’re here from the GAO for the records audit. I trust you received the memo?”
The guard’s brow furrowed as he turned back to his computer. Paige tensed, ready to intervene. “I don’t see anything about?—”
Bridger cut him off smoothly. “Look again. This audit was scheduled weeks ago.”
Paige observed the guard’s growing discomfort. His frown deepened as he replied, “Sir, I’m not seeing any record of a scheduled audit in our system. I can’t just let you?—”
“Not my problem.” Bridger cut him off again. “Do you have any idea how many manhours went into planning this audit? The paperwork alone?—”
The guard held up a placating hand. “Look, I understand, but without proper clearance?—”
Paige recognized her cue. She stepped forward, channeling every uptight bureaucrat she’d ever encountered. “Not this again. Mr. Johnson, it seems we have another case of interdepartmental miscommunication. It’s on this end, I can guarantee you that. When the director hears about this stonewalling, an audit’ll be the least of their problems.”
She could see the guard’s resolve crumbling under their combined assault.
Bridger jumped back in, eying his watch with alarm. “Call your supervisor. Now. The longer you wait, the longer you’ll all stay. Everyone in this building will be here until we finish. You follow me?”