“Yep,” Wolfe said. Unlike the other members of the unit, he didn’t mind being the outcasts of the Homeland Defense Department who had handlers to try and keep them in line. So far, Angus Force still had enough juice with the HDD to keep the team alive, but if he didn’t climb out of the bottle soon, that would end. Wolfe needed to find Rock before that happened. “Why do you have to send reports to the HDD, anyway?”

The printer clunked to life in the corner. “It’s the only way we keep our funding,” she called, starting to type once again.

“What funding?” Mal asked before Wolfe could.

Wolfe grinned and took another deep gulp of his latte. “Do you have anything interesting in your pile of busywork?”

Mal pushed a folder toward Wolfe. “Not really. Securities fraud, computer hacking, and possible political extortion. You?”

Wolfe shook his head. “Not even remotely. A couple of money laundering possibilities and a blond bank robber who has somehow kept her face from being recorded.”

“Blond, female bank robber?” Mal’s eyebrows rose.

Wolfe nodded. “Yep. Hits only safety deposit boxes, and it turns out a lot of them are owned by some pretty shady criminals.”

“Let her rob them, then.” Mal opened one of his files and then rubbed his left eye. “This is just busywork because the HDD is pissed. Without Brigid here this week, we don’t even have a hacker for the computer cases.”

The crank of the elevator reverberated through the room.

“Is Pippa coming by?” Wolfe asked, sitting up.

“Nope.” Malcolm straightened and drew out his desk drawer.

Wolfe did the same, resting his hand on his Glock.

The door opened, and a man stepped out. Wolfe categorized him instantly. About six-foot-three, graceful movements, intelligent brown eyes behind modern rimmed glasses. A six-o’clock shadow covered his jaw and went perfectly with his mussed dark blond hair. The satchel slung over his shoulder was half open and revealed several textbooks. “Hello.” The accent was British.

Wolfe kept his hand on the gun. The newcomer might look like a college professor, but he’d unobtrusively scouted the entire room, noted the lack of exits, and settled his stance in a way that looked casual but was far from it. “Can we help you?” Yeah, his tone wasn’t all that helpful.

Force’s door opened. “Professor. I wondered when you’d finally arrive.”

A slow smile tugged at the professor’s full lips as he focused beyond the hub of desks. “Angus, my friend. You look like shite.”

“You look like you’re undercover at a college,” Force returned, his eyes bloodshot but his smile genuine. “Chasing coeds these days, are you?”

“Hardly. Just teaching them,” the professor returned easily.

Malcolm cleared his throat.

Force nodded. “Dr. Jethro Hanson, please meet my agents, Malcolm West and Clarence Wolfe.”