“Agent Keller, we’d be more than happy to set up an appointment and discuss anything the FBI would like, but I’m going to advise Mr. Milbank not to answer any more questions.”

“Need to call Mexico first?” Keller said. She clicked her pen one time.

The lawyer stood. “I’m afraid this interview is over.”

Another thing people usually didn’t know about the system: a suspect who isn’t under arrest can walk out of an interrogation and even be outright rude to law enforcement.

Keller shook her head. “And we were getting along so well.” She didn’t leave her seat.

The lawyer and Milbank were both standing. “I’d like to know the name of your supervising agent,” the lawyer said. “I don’t think he’d appreciate how you’re—”

Keller held up a hand to silence him as she casually glanced at her phone. She just scrolled her feed, finally looking up at them.

The two men stared at Keller, not clear what to make of her. She wasn’t getting up to leave. She just sat there like she didn’t have a care in the world.

The lawyer started to speak again, but Keller held up a finger, shushing him a second time.

“Hold on.” She tilted her head, cupped a hand around her ear as if she were trying to hear something. After a long moment she said, “There it is.”

Milbank and the lawyer looked baffled.

Then came the sound of heavy footsteps. The door burst open, the glass walls vibrating, and in charged a tall man in a suit and cowboy boots, followed by half a dozen men and women in blue windbreakers.

Keller tried not to gloat as Cal Buchanan handed the lawyer a search warrant. The lawyer read the document and turned as white as the papers.

“Call everyone to the conference room,” Buchanan barked at the head of Marconi Chicago and its general counsel. “Now!”

Stan was right about Cal: BSD.

Standing at last, Keller held out her hand, gesturing to Milbank. “Please give me your phone.”

The lawyer moved his heavyset frame between Keller and Milbank, his face red with anger.

“Please step aside,” Keller said calmly.

The lawyer held his ground.

“Have it your way,” Keller said. She whirled the lawyer around and cuffed him.

She’d likely hear about this later. Pinstriped lawyers didn’t take kindly to being physically restrained. Out of the corner of her eye she caught an admiring look from Cal Buchanan. Who’s the BSD now? Keller thought.

Keller left the agents to do their thing. The files, she hoped, would reveal dirt on the lower-level people, who would turn on their bosses, provide the human factor her case against Marconi was lacking. If not, they’d have to go with just the documents.