“Hello, this is Nathan McBride. The director’s expecting my call.”

“One moment please, Mr. McBride. I’ll put you through.”

A sonic boom, probably from a fighter jet, reverberated through the room.

The line went silent, totally and utterly silent. No clicks, no electronic buzz, no crackling. Nothing. He was about to hang up, thinking he’d been disconnected, when a man’s voice came on the line.

“This is FBI Director Ethan Lansing. Am I speaking with Nathan McBride?”

“Yes.”

“What can I do for you, Mr. McBride?”

“I have you on speaker, Director. Harvey Fontana is with me. Are we being recorded?”

“Yes.”

“Will you reconsider, please?”

“I’ll tell you what, Mr. McBride, because of who your father is, and because he’s also a friend of mine, I’ll agree to keep this conversation off the record. Hold the line, please.”

Once again Nathan found himself listening to complete silence. Coming through the hotel room’s window, he heard the muffled whine of a siren, followed by the staccato blast of a fire truck’s air horn. A few seconds later, Lansing was back.

“Now that we’re off the record, I’ll agree to keep this conversation private because you and Mr. Fontana saved a dozen lives the other day. You’re owed a debt of gratitude for that. I’ll also thank both of you for your military service to our country.”

Nathan felt the director’s gratitude was genuine. “I appreciate you saying that. May I ask how much you know of our past?”

“All of it.”

“I know you’re a busy man, so I’ll get to the point. We want a green light to pursue the Bridgestone brothers.”

“I see. As private citizens, you’re entitled to do that provided you conduct yourselves within the confines of the law.”

“Director Lansing, may I speak freely?”

“You may.”

Nathan frowned at a second siren outside. From the window, Harv shrugged. “Circumstances may dictate a certain amount of flexibility,” Nathan said. “You’re aware of how we found Frank Ortega’s grandson?”

“Yes, I’ve had a complete briefing.”

“I’m asking for a temporary extension of that flexibility.”

“If I understand what you’re asking for, then you must know that as a sworn law-enforcement officer, I can’t agree to it. I did not approve the interrogation of those individuals at the farmhouse outside Sacramento, and I’m disappointed it took place.”

“Director Lansing, I’m not recording this call either, you have my word. No one was seriously hurt at the farmhouse.”

“That’s beside the point, Mr. McBride. This isn’t Nicaragua, or the former Soviet Union, and you aren’t a CIA operations officer anymore. You’re a civilian now, governed by the laws of our land. The Constitution isn’t just a piece of paper, it’s a fundamental building block of who we are as a society. It defines us.”