Page 38

Washington D.C.

The snow drifted softly against the windows of the hotel suite like a curious visitor.

Bishop leaned against the glass, gazing out at the Capitol. Colorful Christmas lights adorned the buildings and shimmered through the flurries.

To most, the sight would be a symbol of hope and seasonal joy. To him, it was a pretty facade that covered a cracked foundation that would crumble to dust soon enough. And oh! How he longed for the day.

Behind him, a soft knock announced the arrival of his visitor. He didn’t call out as he hit the remote that automatically closed the blinds and blocked out the view of the city.

Let him wait , he thought maliciously. The strong control the clock. The weak merely watch it tick away.

“You’re late,” he said after taking his time to open the door and then motion for the operative to come in.

The man shifted uncomfortably, his leather shoes scuffing against the polished wood floor as he stepped into the room. “Traffic.”

Bishop snorted, brushing past the man on his way to the seating area. “Such a quaint excuse. As if you haven’t been trained to overcome obstacles. But let’s not waste time with apologies.”

“I brought what you asked for.” The man set a leather satchel on the low coffee table. “Every digital correspondence, logs of all encrypted calls, and videos of every virtual meeting. All the evidence you’ll ever need to expose the whole thing.”

After sitting in one of the plush armchairs, Bishop’s sharp gaze roved over the young operative. It was clear the man was still raw. He had a nervous energy that made Bishop itch.

“If you’d like my help leaking it to the press, I can?—”

“No,” Bishop interrupted, his tone flat and final. “This isn’t about exposing them. Not now. It’s about understanding the entirety of the board before making the final move.”

The operative frowned. “But if the public knew?—”

Bishop slammed his hand down on the coffee table. The sound was sharp and decisive, like a gunshot in the quiet room.

“The public knows what they’re told to know. And I’m telling you that the timing must be perfect. Or this information will do nothing but scatter the pieces. I don’t want chaos. I want a controlled demolition.”

The man swallowed, nodding quickly. “Understood, sir.”

“Good.” Bishop reached for the glass of scotch on the end table and swirled it idly, staring at the amber liquid. “The cracks are spreading. People are angrier and more divided than ever. Fear is rising. It’s all going according to plan.”

“And in the meantime, you just let Black Knights Inc. continue to operate with impunity?”

Bishop smiled, but the cold curve of his lips never reached his eyes. “They’re a minor nuisance. Like Madam President herself. They’ll all fall in time.” He swirled the liquid in his glass again, his eyes gleaming with dark purpose. “But only when I say so.”