Page 140 of Only the Wicked

He leans closer and I scratch below my ear, hoping the guys out in the van are getting this.

“We’ve had leaks.”

We… “You mean the CIA?”

“And other agencies. Could it be an employee within ARGUS?”

“Absolutely not,” I insist, although a seed of doubt took root when Sydney shared her reasons. “We have safeguards in place.”

“Would you be open to an official inquiry just to…”

“David, can I be straight with you?”

He leans back, crossing an ankle over his knee. “I expect nothing less.”

“When I walked in here, I believed the leaks were coming from the Senate.”

Am I going off plan? Yes. But I want to see how he reacts. Also, if he thinks he can back me into a corner with his threat of an inquiry, he’s wrong.

He shifts in his seat, putting his feet flat on the floor and pulling out his phone.

“Do you have any evidence?”

I stare at him, watching him read his phone screen, and wait. I hoped this meeting would provide evidence or at least confirm my theory.

His skin flushes as his thumb swipes the screen.

“I’m going to need to cut this short. Can we continue this talk next week?”

He’s out of his seat.

“Is everything okay?”

“A personal matter. It’s my wife. I’ve got to go.”

“Just like that? I tell you I believe the Senate is the source of leaks, and you manufacture a crisis and leave?” Is he out of his mind?

He rubs his forehead and purses his lips. “It’s not, it’s a personal matter.”

Steps sound along the corridor and the door opens. Dristol enters. “You got the message?” he asks Crawford in a voice so low he likely intends for me to not hear.

“Yes. I’m on my way now.” Crawford glances back at me, the slimmest hint of apology in his expression.

“If you want, I can take this,” Dristol says.

“How’d you get here so quick?” Crawford asks the question loud enough it’s clear he’s not looking to hide anything.

“I’ve been trying to reach you for the last thirty minutes. Couldn’t get you so headed here.”

Crawford shakes his head back and forth. “Damn the connection on this floor. Comes and goes.”

His comment has me wondering if the team outside has heard anything, but it doesn’t matter. He shared nothing of substance.

“Anyway, thanks.” Crawford places a hand on Dristol’s shoulder and steps to the door, stopping in the doorway. “I don’t think there’s much for you two to discuss. Rhodes, you want to walk out with me?”

“Oh, I’d like to talk to Rhodes, if you don’t mind,” Dristol says.

“That’s right. You two met last night at the pre-party bash.” Crawford’s phone vibrates and he checks the screen. “I’ve gotta go. Rhodes, my assistant will coordinate a time for us to continue next week. Devon, don’t keep him too long. It’s the weekend.”