She’d done her due diligence, finding the obscure branch of the FBI in the encrypted database provided to her first thing in the morning. But even in those internal records, it was simply listed as the SSA. Everything checked out, except for the glaring fact that no one had ever heard of it.

The driver came to a stop in front of yet another nondescript warehouse. He stepped out and opened her door, umbrella ready. It was a short walk to a lone metal door. The driver reached out with a key.

A key? That’s the security for a supposedly top-secret agency?

He inserted it into a weary lockbox next to the door. A turn of the key revealed a keypad within. He flashed his security badge at a small screen, punched in a code, and leaned down to do a quick retinal scan. Finally, he placed his thumbprint on the screen. She heard a series of heavy locks release inside.

“I stand corrected,” she murmured.

The small front lobby featured no furniture. A woman wearing a black suit similar to the driver’s sat behind a window, sliding it open without a word. She requested both their security badges, examined them, and made a quiet phone call. She then asked for the umbrella, which the driver provided. She simply nodded towards the only other door in the room. “I can buzz you through—”

“I can handle it.” The driver proceeded to wave his badge again.

“I don’t think the FBI even has this redundancy for security,” Kate said.

“We’re not the FBI, ma’am.”

“According to budget appropriations, you are.”

“Technically, I suppose,” he said, opening the door. “Please follow me.”

Kate’s eyes immediately had to adjust to the darkness of the room beyond, which was lit only by hundreds of computer monitors and televisions that filled the space. The light from the screens revealed intense expressions and wrinkled foreheads.

They passed through without a single employee looking in their direction. Kate slowed her stride to try and see what they were all so intently studying, but when the driver did not, she was forced to keep pace. She did catch a glimpse of what appeared to be the latest video of hurricane damage in New Orleans, with the worker drawing circles on a monitor with a red digital pen.

The driver led her into a small room where a receptionist smiled and nodded. They passed through into a windowless office, lit this time with dim fluorescent lights. No one was sitting at the immaculately clean desk at the far end of the room.

“Am I not to be meeting with Director Wolve?” Kate asked.

The driver walked to the desk and sat down, touching the pad on the laptop to bring it to life. “You are. I’m Mark Wolve.”

“Excuse me?”

He typed quickly, obviously entering his pass code. “Have a seat, Senator.”

“You never thought to introduce yourself?”