Chapter 38 #2
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.”
With that, he’s out the door.
“You may want to sit,” Dristol says.
Crawford’s sudden departure, Dristol’s convenient arrival, it’s too orchestrated to be a coincidence. They’re keeping Crawford’s hands clean while Dristol does the dirty work.
I do as he asks and sit. “What can I do for you Devon?”
He claims the seat Crawford vacated. Doesn’t say a word.
Down the hall, I hear a heavy door close. Possibly a fire escape door.
A shadow crosses the threshold.
“Well hello Jason Reid,” I say for the van’s benefit. “If it isn’t the fake FBI agent, alias Ian Gregory.”
Reid scowls but Dristol grins.
“I told him you had a powerful resource at your fingertips,” Dristol says.
I suppose it’s good they’ve assumed I’ve used ARGUS to verify Reid’s credentials. Better that than they suspect I’m working with anyone.
“Here’s the deal,” Dristol says. “I need you to acquire the Forbes database.”
“Are you speaking for Crawford right now?”
“If you care at all for your reputation, you’re going to do what they ask. It’s in the best interest of the United States of America.”
“Is that so?”
“It is. To be clear, I want to be your friend, not your enemy. I’d prefer for ARGUS to remain a private entity, but I hear the conversations in the halls. A growing number want to claim it’s a national security risk. Take you over. If you work with us, those voices won’t travel far.”
Any government taking over ARGUS is an Orwellian nightmare. It’s not going to happen.
“Who put you up to this?”
My gaze flicks to Reid, who has closed the office door and stands sentry, arms folded in front of his waist, watching the scene.
“Your partner has expressed consternation at your insufficient willingness to do what’s best for the growth of your company.”
Miles. The bastard really is working against me. Is this part of building a case to justify forcing me out? Part of his trap or what he ultimately wants and he fears I’ll refuse?
I scan the two men closely, wondering if they’re recording the meeting in a bid to aid Miles.
The two men share similar menacing countenances.
“Are you here to threaten me?”
“No,” Dristol’s quick to say.
“Excellent,” I say, standing up.
“So you’d rather news hit the wire?” He asks the question slowly, his attention on his trimmed nails.
He’s definitely in bed with the Russians. It’s the same threat they held over me. These guys are all working together.
But is he working with his boss or independently?
We’ll need to access the communications to Crawford’s phone.
It’s conceivable they were listening in and stepped in when they realized Crawford was about to work with me to identify the leak.
Perhaps they didn’t attempt to reach him thirty minutes earlier.
At this moment, that specific truth doesn’t matter. They’re looking at me like they’re holding all the cards, but preparation wins.
“In your role on the Hill, you’re familiar with PR strategy, correct?
Sometimes the best response is diversion.
” I open my backpack deliberately slowly, keeping a close eye on both Gregory and Dristol as I extract the iPad we prepared specifically for this meeting.
Of course, I planned to share it with Crawford, but here we are.
The device contains isolated evidence Quinn and Daisy compiled—nothing that can be traced back to the source if this goes sideways.
I press play and watch Dristol’s skin blanch.
The evidence is damning—Dristol’s face is clearly visible in meetings with Romanovich in locations ranging from coffee shops to park benches. Timestamps. Locations. Phone records. The financial transactions and offshore accounts are the most damning pieces of evidence.
“Photographs of meets. Financial transactions. All easily assembled once you know what you’re looking for and with access to the right databases.” I deliberately leave unsaid the implication: once you know what you’re looking for, you might find much more.
Dristol’s throat works as he swallows. He rubs his neck, sniffs—stress responses.
“We live in a world of deep fakes.”
His defense is weak, perfunctory. I watch his eyes—not focused on the evidence, but darting to the corners of the room. Is he looking for cameras? Exits?
“Deep fakes are increasingly common,” I concur. “But these are real. And we have live witnesses. You know, thanks to last night.”
He leans back in his seat. He doesn’t bother to hit replay.
“There’s got to be a way.” He breathes in deeply and taps his index finger against the table.
“It’s best for you if we work together smoothly.
This theoretical evidence—it can easily be misunderstood.
And for you, think about what’s at stake.
If the winds pick up on a deal that violates US policy, you could see every government contract disappear. Billions of dollars.”
What Dristol doesn’t understand—what people like him never understand—is that my refusal isn’t negotiating posture.
It’s the fundamental principle ARGUS was built on.
Do good. The moment I agree to work with someone like this, I’m no better than the surveillance state opportunists I set out to counter.
More practically, once I negotiate with one, it’s only a matter of time before my willingness to deal is exploited by others.
That’s why I’m here now. One questionable deal—one mistake—at a weak moment.
The mythological references from earlier flash through my mind.
This is another form of hubris to fear—not mine, but theirs.
The arrogance that makes men believe they can control anything powerful once it’s unleashed.
They think they can use ARGUS without consequence, just as Icarus thought he could fly anywhere, never falling.
“What exactly do you want?” Might as well get it on tape.
Reid steps forward into Dristol’s sight line.
Something passes between them. With Reid’s face partially hidden by his stance, I can’t read the two men, and find myself scanning Reid’s waistline, wondering if he’s carrying. I’ve been told FBI agents always carry, but he was never FBI. Quinn said he’s former CIA.
He’s a slim guy, slightly shorter than me. And Dristol’s out-of-shape. I’m not afraid of either of these men, unless there’s a gun holster beneath Reid’s sports jacket.
In my ear, Syd’s voice comes through. “Ask him what’s in it for him. How does he monetize it.”
“What I don’t understand,” I begin slowly to capture the men’s attention, “What’s in it for you? I see how I increase my fortune with the acquisition, but I’m not seeing the payout for you two.”
It’s a valid question, unless Miles is paying these fuckers. The thought pushes me over the edge into angry. Would he really do that? Hire these twats instead of just having it out with me?
“Let’s say we have a vested interest. And it’s no concern of yours,” Reid answers.
He moves to leave, and in my ear, Syd says, “Save it. Buy an additional meet.”
I’m not convinced I need more on this prick. I’ve got a powerful tool at my fingertips. But, in team spirit, I say, “Let me sleep on it.” It’s a phrase I use all the time thanks to Nana, the queen of ruminating.
Dristol stands, pushing his chair back. “You asked what we want?”
I nod.
“Not much. Access. That’s all. After you purchase the database, give us unfettered access for one week. That’s it.”
“And what would I get?”
“We become your ally.”
I pointedly look at Reid, questioning why I need a guy with a fake badge as an ally.
“He’s connected,” Dristol answers my unspoken question. “In a group that theoretically doesn’t exist. He uses an alternative identity when it’s useful.”
I’m not buying it, but I wonder if the team listening in is.
“Sleep on it,” Dristol says. “I’ll be in touch to coordinate a follow up. And in terms of what we can give you…a shield. No inquiries into the past. If there’s a database you want access to, we can make it happen.”
For the thousandth time, that’s not how ARGUS works.
“We work to quiet the national security drumbeat, interest in legislation and state ownership. Seems to me you get a lot out of working with us.”
He thinks he’s luring me into a trap. Yet he’s the one under surveillance.
“How can you eliminate AI legislation?” I ask, playing along.
“I’m not working alone. I’ve been playing the D.C. game for decades. Long before Crawford. That’s why he hired me. I can be persuasive.”
He’s not saying it, but I’m betting he means blackmail. Extortion. Which would further explain his interest in ARGUS.
“Query access. That’s what you really want.”
He smiles his affirmative answer. “After you buy that database.”
“You kill the AI bill that just passed the House, and we may have a deal.”
Thanks to that arrogant, cocky attitude, I know I’ve got him.
He grins, becoming all teeth. “I hope to work together,” Dristol says, extending his hand.
I take it, forcing a smile. “Same here.”