“Where is everything?”

“Back in the Bahamas. I hid everything along with the GoPro footage I took from my dive.”

Eric Wheldon stared at him with a dumbfounded look.

“This video. You can tell it’s Dunning? Clear video?”

Gannon nodded.

“I can’t believe this. Is it somewhere secure?”

Gannon thought of the ridge in the pitch-black, unmarked submerged cave a hundred feet underground.

“Yeah, you could say that. Like I said, I had no idea it was the FBI director until I saw his picture in the Times yesterday morning.”

“I can’t believe this,” the reporter said again.

“That makes two of us, buddy,” Gannon said. “Now it’s your turn. What in the green world of God is going on?”

45

“It was a whisper jet,” the reporter said.

“A what?” Gannon said.

“A whisper jet. Tell me, were there any numbers or letters on the tail of the plane?”

“I don’t remember.”

“How about on the jet engines? Sometimes Gulfstream puts the ID tag number on the engines.”

Gannon thought about the giant white fishing bob he’d seen.

“No, there was nothing on them.”

“That’s why they call it a whisper jet. National secrecy and security. It flies anywhere, and no one knows who or, in this case, what’s on it. The plane that went down was probably the FBI director’s personal jet.”

“No! The FBI director gets his own private rock-star jet? A Gulfstream?”

“Oh, but of course. Not just any kind either. An air force model with aftermarket add-ons like radar jamming. The attorney general has one as well. The least we could do is have our sworn protectors live as large as possible. It’s only taxpayer money after all, right?”

“They can do that? Fly around without markings, jamming radar? Aren’t there rules?”

“Sure there are. For everybody but the people who make them. Or in this case, claim to be enforcing them. You read the news today? You hear about Messerly?”

“Messerly?”

“The new NSA defector leaker guy stuck at the embassy in Europe.”

“Oh, yeah. Messerly. I remember him. From last year, right? The new Assange. What about him?”

“They just blocked all his social media accounts this morning. Just flat-out blocked them. Said he was too hateful. The single greatest whistle-blower of all time who’s trying to expose the illegal surveillance of the entire global population is too hateful? They apparently own the social media companies as well as the mainstream media now. They can do anything they want.”

“I don’t understand,” Gannon said.

“Could you excuse me for one second? I need to make a phone call.”

“That depends. Who are you calling?”

“It’s okay. A source. I just want to confirm something. Just give me a second, okay?”

Wheldon left the room. Gannon could hear him talking in a low voice. He let out a breath and stared at the grimy bargain hotel room. At the little oven, at the half-open bathroom door. He wondered if coming here was actually a good idea.