“Not exactly. I remember the hypocrisy and bad leadership that focused on the wrong things for political purposes and led to the potential loss of innocent lives,” Zack shot back viciously, breathing deeply as soon as he finished. “Now, please let your son finish.”

Mrs. Harper, an attractive woman in her late fifties with black, shoulder-length hair and a soft face, a woman that Zack had never met, reached out and placed a hand on Josh’s right shoulder, both comforting and encouraging. No matter what you think of him, they’re a close family. He’s not a monster, Zack.

“While doing an inventory for monitors, I found a laptop this past Monday. It had no sticker or barcode on it. I asked around the office, and no one seemed to know whose it was. I even called our IT support folks, but they had no record of it, and there was no profile on it. The Windows home screen was password protected, and even a hard reset wouldn’t open it. After getting nowhere, I left it in the cubby, locked away. I figured someone would eventually claim it. I even sent an email to the entire directorate and front-office staff but got no response.”

Zack sighed, but before he could speak, Brandon said, “I know what you’re thinking, Zack. Whoever is involved in this, Josh’s email sent a signal to them that the laptop was about to be discovered or taken by the assets folks.”

“Even worse,” Zack added, “his email forced them to act. So how did the laptop that you locked away end up in your possession?”

“Like you said, someone acted,” Josh answered. “On Wednesday, my internship with that office ended. By the end of the day, after my send-off, I’d completely forgotten about the laptop and figured it was someone else’s problem. I’d packed up my personal belongings, and because I wasn’t doing the internship next semester, I brought two boxes home with me.”

“And you didn’t open them until when?” Zack asked, although he feared he knew the answer.

“Late Friday afternoon, just before dinner. I had some time to kill, and I figured I’d go through the box of books and grab something to read, as it had a number of books about the agency. I even had a copy of this thriller about a CIA mole that some female analyst wrote. I asked her to sign it, which she did. She still works there, but the world doesn’t know it. It’s kind of crazy the regulations placed on her by the agency.”

“Josh . . .” his dad said, encouraging him to speed the story up.

“Sorry. When I pulled out all of the books, I found that laptop,” he said, pointing to the Dell. “When I saw it, I just stared at it, as if doing so would make it go away. I kind of freaked out.”