Page 25 of The Grave Artist (Sanchez & Heron #2)

“What is this?” Eric Williamson whispered, staring at the documents the congressional liaison attorneys had just delivered.

Mehlman blinked, apparently because it was obvious. “It’s a subpoena to appear before the Congressional Subcommittee on National Security.”

Words failed him momentarily. The appearance was set for tomorrow morning at nine. Factoring in a five-hour flight to DC, and a three-hour time zone difference, he would have to leave now. As in, right now.

About fifty pages of exhibits, reports and sworn affidavits and other supporting documents accompanied the short subpoena.

He glanced up at them. “The hell’s this about?”

Both visitors remained calm. One thing was clear from their expressions. The pair were utterly bulletproof to any insults and anger fired their way. They were the government equivalent of the hit teams called in by human resource departments to fire employees.

“You’ll have time to read everything on the flight—there’s a government jet standing by at LAX. But the gist is that the subcommittee plans to fold this I-squared program into DHS at a higher level than HSI.”

“But ... I can’t leave HSI.”

Winters offered, “Oh, that’s not a concern, Agent Williamson. You’ll remain here. There’s no change in your job status whatsoever. But you’ll no longer have the added burden of I-squared.”

“Burden? It’s the whole point of what I’ve been trying to put together for three years.”

Mehlman jutted out his lower lip. “Then kudos to you that it’s going to a higher division.” He looked at his watch. Was he late for the next meeting in which he’d destroy someone’s life? “If you could acknowledge receipt of the subpoena, sir.”

“I’m not doing that.” He pushed the two slips of paper back toward them.

Mehlman shrugged. “All right.” Delivered with the practiced air of a process server who had heard it all before. He glanced at Winters. “Please record.”

She lifted her phone and hit what was presumably the video button.

Mehlman spoke in a carrying voice. “The federal subpoena issued by Magistrate Joanne Visconte in the District Court of Washington, DC, dated this day has been duly served on Supervisory Special Agent Eric Williamson.” He looked back at Winters and added, “And duly witnessed.”

No . . . this can’t be happening . . .

His mind spun. A million thoughts. “Well, I can’t just leave with these active investigations going on.”

“The director will be in touch about that. You don’t need to worry.”

Williamson resisted an urge to tear up the subpoena as Winters frowned wrinkles into her young face. “Agent Williamson? I should mention. The plane is wheels up in forty-two minutes.”

Mehlman added, “If I were you, sir, I’d get a move on. You miss your appearance and you’ll be held in contempt of Congress. Could get you a year in prison. We wouldn’t want that now, would we?”