Griffin was furious with himself. It wasn’t Barrett’s fault. The responsibility was all his. He trusted Barrett like a brother, and in Barrett’s defense, there was no way he could’ve known who the residents were. They were names on a list, but who they were, that was the critical information that had been missed. He should’ve studied that list himself, rather than delegating it to his chief of operations. But he’d been distracted because of the buyer and the enormity of what they were acquiring. The information on the laptop was power, pure and simple, and a shadow balance between nations depended upon it. He didn’t consider himself a traitor; he was just balancing the scales of power—and getting paid a fortune to do so.

He accelerated around the curve, the tires of the Ford Explorer gripping the pavement as if it were a racetrack. The planning for the operation had been so thorough that he’d even had the Explorers pursuit-rated like real police vehicles.

There were always unknown variables, no matter how hard they tried to avoid them. It was inevitable, part of the business. But something like this? He gripped the steering wheel tighter and drove.

As soon as he’d seen the name on the list, he’d frozen, a statue stuck to the gymnasium floor, oblivious to the world around him. And then he’d put the several sheets of paper back on the table and informed his team that he was heading to the neighborhood. His instructions to them had been simple: Maintain control of the hostages until he returned. Do not hurt them, and absolutely do not shoot anyone. Griffin would be the only person making life-and-death decisions for the rest of the night.

Griffin Huntsmen would not be denied what was rightfully his. He knew that he really was the smartest person in the room, no matter the room or its occupants. He’d proven it again and again, one mission after another, for God and country, yet America’s premier intelligence agency had fallen into bureaucratic disrepair, handcuffed by presidential directives.

It seemed the US government had decided that a progressive agenda, diversity, and social justice were more important than national security. He’d seen it coming. They all had. The daily agency-wide emails that focused on inclusion and feelings more than pursuing the enemies of the state. In his worldview, complacency and political correctness were just as dangerous as any violent extremist groups. One could be killed, while the other was an insidious ideology that preyed upon the young, naive, and institutional bureaucrats who only cared about their retirement pensions.