“Given the proximity of our operation to the White House, you can bet your ass the Secret Service will investigate. Stuff like this makes them nervous. All we’re asking is that you take a little impromptu vacation and get out of the Beltway. You don’t want to be home when the Secret Service comes knocking with questions. And they will come knocking. They’ll run every surveillance camera feed in the hotel and on the surrounding streets through their facial-recognition system—which will tag a good number of us. Let MINERVA’s lawyers and executives deal with their questions. It’s far less painful for everyone that way.”

“How long do you think we’ll need to stay away?” asked one of the surveillance techs.

“Two weeks. Plan on two weeks. You’ll all get a one-time, tier-four performance bonus to help pay for the unexpected vacation,” said Shea. “That comes straight from the top.”

Devin turned to the DA operative seated next to him.

“Is that good?” whispered Devin.

“That’s more than good,” he said. “Ten percent of base pay, after taxes.”

“Damn. They must really want us to leave town,” said Devin.

Shea pointed at Devin. “Did everyone hear what Mr. Gray just said?”

When everyone quieted, he continued. “He very astutely said, ‘They must really want us to leave town.’ Any questions about what you’ll be doing for the next two weeks?”

“Vacation. Far away,” said Chris Murphy.

“Exactly. Starting today. Drop off your issued gear back in the office and head straight home to start packing. Preferably, you’ll call the family on the way home, and they’ll have a bag packed for you when you arrive,” said Shea. “Anything else before we cut loose?”

Silence. Mercifully.

“All righty then. Let’s load up and get back to the office. That should get you on the road and headed home before rush hour traffic gets crazy. Don’t want to hold up any of your vacations,” said Shea, to a round of grunts and groans. “Quit your bitching. It’s a paid vacation.”

Devin checked his watch on the way out: 5:35. Unless they were closer to DC than he’d guessed, that put him in heavy Beltway traffic on the ride from the office in Alexandria to his apartment in Hyattsville.

His estimate about the distance turned out to be pretty accurate. After a seventy-minute, light-traffic drive, and about a half hour inside the MINERVA headquarters building, he slumped into the leather driver’s seat of his SUV and took a few moments to think about how he’d go about skipping town. His dad would not be keen on the idea of packing a suitcase and heading straight to the airport this morning, later today, or even tomorrow, for no other reason than he “required more notice than that.” He could hear the words right now. His dad never rushed into things, or out of them.