Chapter 20 #2
My nail glides between my teeth once more.
I can’t do it all. But I have contacts. “If Meridian has former DOJ officials advising them, they know who I’d normally go to.
Rebecca—my boss, the US Attorney—signed off on shutting down the case.
Michael’s Main Justice, technically above me but not in my chain.
Either one of them could be compromised, or neither. How do I know who’s clean?”
“Rhodes has contacts.”
“Rhodes isn’t law enforcement. I need someone with subpoena power who won’t tip off Meridian the second I file paperwork.” I’m back to pacing, aware of him tracking every step.
“What’re you thinking?”
“Well, there’s the Department of Justice Inspector General. They investigate DOJ corruption and have prosecutorial power, but they’re slow and these days are likely to defer to DOJ leadership. Not great corruption prevention. Besides, they investigate misconduct, not murder.”
“FBI?” Gabe asks.
“FBI Counterintelligence Division,” I say, picking up his lead. “They investigate foreign influence and corruption at the federal level. But if DHS is compromised, the FBI might be too.”
“There was a drive-by shooting right after you left your FBI contact.”
My lips press together. That’s a good point. “I need to know who at the FBI isn’t on Meridian’s radar.”
In theory, there should be thorough background checks to minimize the risk of any agent being compromised, but these days, you can’t count on that.
“There are federal prosecutors outside of DC. They’ve got jurisdiction over RICO cases—less likely to be under Meridian’s influence network.
But that’s a slower timeline.” I point at Gabe.
“Write down Southern District of New York. They don’t answer to DC politics. I’ll explore that angle.”
His pen moves against the paper.
“Isn’t there a group dedicated to rooting out public corruption?”
“The Public Corruption Task Force. But it’s multi-agency, which means greater potential for leaks. If even one person on the task force is compromised.” I click my tongue as that’s all that’s needed for Gabe to comprehend.
I come around behind the desk again to review his notes.
“How about this? I’ll contact the DOJ Inspector General. It’ll be official and provide a paper trail. Then, let’s ask KOAN, or Rhodes, or whoever, to identify clean FBI agents. People they trust. We’ll parallel path it. We should look at flights.”
Gabe doesn’t move, so I pick up my laptop.
“You don’t have to go back. You can do this from here.”
“I’m the prosecutor. I’m the one who can convene a grand jury. I’m the one with DOJ access, and it’s better to make these requests in person. Leave or not, my bar credentials are intact.”
“You’re also the one they’ve been tracking. The car accident wasn’t random. The surveillance in Geneva isn’t random. You go back, you’re walking into their line of sight.”
“Then I’ll be careful. Safe.”
“How?”
“Visibility. I file the IG complaint the second I land. I copy it to the Senate Judiciary Committee. I make it so high-profile that if something happens to me, it’s obvious.”
This time, he clucks, and his arms cross over his chest once more. “That paints a target on your back.”
“The target’s already there, Gabe. At least this way, I’m the one holding the gun.”
He opens his mouth—I can see the argument forming, the same one from Geneva, the same one that will likely always form anytime he watches me walk toward perceived danger instead of away from it.
Then he stops. Visibly. Like he’s caught himself mid-motion.
“Tell me why,” he says. “Not the strategy. The why.”
It’s such a small thing, wanting my reasoning instead of just fighting my decision, and the action obliterates the frustration I’d been harboring. I feel it in the way my chest loosens, and the sudden urge to hold him.
“Because hiding won’t keep me safe. And even if it did, hiding won’t deliver justice.” I hold his gaze. “Visibility is armor, Gabe. Not weakness.”
He’s silent for a moment, jaw working.
“Okay,” he says finally. “Then we make sure the whole world’s watching when you do it.” Not agreement without a fight. Agreement with eyes open, choosing this because I’ve made my case—not because he’s given up on protecting me.
I text my father’s travel agent, and while I wait for him to do his magic on flights, I sit back mulling over our plan.
“If I do this—if I file against sitting DOJ officials, expose Meridian, push this to a grand jury—I’m done at DOJ.”
Not reassigned. Not sidelined.
Done.
“You don’t know that,” Gabe says, coming around and joining me on the sofa.
“Yes, I do. Best case, I’m the prosecutor who accused her own department of corruption. I’ll never be trusted again. Worst case, I’m fired for insubordination before the investigation even starts.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
It’s a fair question. “Because Lina trusted the system. And I told her she could. And the system killed her. If I don’t fix that, who will?”
Gabe lifts my hand, his thumb brushing over my skin—slow, absent, like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. He rubs the pad of his thumb over the nail I bit to the quick earlier—my bad habit.
“This changes things,” he says.
I pull my hand away.
“Between us,” he clarifies—although I’m not sure that’s better.
“How?”
“Because if you're taking on Meridian—the people paying to keep Safe Passage buried—you’re taking on people who’ve already tried to kill you. And I’m not standing by while you do that.”
Oh my god. If he’s going to try and talk me out of this—or pull a Dad move. “I’m not asking you to stand by.”
“Understood. But I’m coming with you. For all of it. DOJ meetings, IG interviews, grand jury prep. You don’t do this alone.”
“Gabe, that’s not—”
“It’s not negotiable, Evie. You want partnership? This is what it looks like.” He’s steadfast. There’s no hint of doubt. “You don’t get to protect me by shutting me out anymore than I get to protect you by making decisions without you.”
My nostrils flare with my deep inhale as I process.
A part of me doesn’t like it, but at the same time, he’s not being unreasonable. “Okay.”
For such a simple word, it feels big.
“Okay?”
My chest tightens as fear and relief collide in equal measure.
“Okay,” I confirm. “We do this together.”
“Good. Now, let me loop the team in.”
“Who are you calling?”
“Hudson. He’s the managing director.”
“What about Rhodes?”
“He’s a KOAN partner. Hudson will loop him in as needed.”
Hudson answers with, “You bring her up to speed?”
“Yes. We’ve got a plan.”
“Great. Hold a second, I’m going to loop in Rhodes. He just messaged me.”
There are a series of beeps, then Rhodes’ voice comes through the line. “Tell me you found something.”
Hudson answers with, “I’ve got Gabe and Evie on the line. Gabe, you want to give the update?”
“We found everything. Meridian Risk Solutions. Alpine Refuge Network. Payment chains. Authorization manipulation. It’s systemic.”
“Can you prove it?” Rhodes asks.
“Not without burning ARGUS.” Gabe answers honestly.
That’s the piece I hate—our information source.
“Then we’ll get the evidence the old-fashioned way,” Hudson pipes in.
“I’ll file an IG complaint when we land,” I say, bringing them both up to speed.
“She’s requesting a grand jury,” Gabe adds. “But she needs to know who at the FBI we can trust.”
“I’ll get you names,” Rhodes answers. “You’ll have them when you land.”
“And if the DOJ, or anyone else, tries to bury this?” I ask, because that’s the worry that’s giving me pause. Someone already closed this once.
“Then we go public. ARGUS data gets anonymized and leaked to investigative journalists. I’ve already got three on standby who specialize in federal corruption.”
“Lovely idea, Rhodes,” I say, “But if we leak ARGUS data, we can’t prosecute.”
“If they bury your IG complaint, there won’t be a prosecution anyway. At least exposure stops them from doing it again.”
Rhodes’ argument is reasonable but, “I don’t want exposure. I want arrests.”
Gabe’s gaze locks with mine. He understands.
Rhodes answers with the confidence of a young founder who’s worth billions. “Then make sure your IG complaint doesn’t get buried.”
“How?” I ask.
“Make it so explosive they can’t ignore it. Name Meridian. Name the PAC. Name the DHS official who signed the witness transfer. Make it specific enough that burying it becomes conspiracy.”
Rhodes is right. “If I name names in the complaint, and someone tries to obstruct the investigation, that’s a separate crime.”
“Exactly.” Rhodes says. “You’re not just alleging corruption. You’re creating a prosecutorial tripwire. Anyone who touches your complaint becomes part of the conspiracy.”
The call ends and Gabe gathers my hands in his.
It’s a movement that underscores our relationship shift.
We’re not pretending anymore. If we were only friends, he wouldn’t do this.
Of course, as much as I want this, the timing is horrible.
The last thing I want is to put his career in danger.
He’s aiming for the NSA. Involvement in this could easily impact his career.
“When we get back, they’re going to come after me. Professionally. Maybe legally. They’ll say I’m unstable, obsessed, or trying to make a name for myself. Whichever narrative they choose, it won’t be flattering.”
“Let them.”
“I agree, but the problem is I don’t want you to be collateral. And there’s a good chance they’ll come after you. For helping me.”
“I’m counting on it.”
“Why are you doing this?” I don’t get it.
“Because I care about you, Evie.”
He says it like it’s the simplest truth in the world.
“That’s not a reason to get involved in this.”
“It’s the only reason that matters.”