“Like I said, as soon as I saw the laptop, I freaked out. The last thing I want to be accused of is stealing classified material, government property, or worse. My career would be over before it even begins. Security can be overzealous, to say the least, to the point that people are walking on eggshells. I’ve heard horror stories of honorable and trustworthy people forced out of the agency for all sorts of things, often with no recourse.”

“Now you’re getting it, kid. The agency has all the power. It’s one of the reasons I left. At least you know what you’re getting into, and you seem like you have a good head on your shoulders. Sounds like the agency could use more of that.”

“I believe it’s worth it, and it’s my decision to make,” Josh stated.

Good God, he’s a strong-willed one. “I won’t argue that, but just to speed things along, let me guess—as soon as you found it, you told your dad about it. What time was that?”

“I got this, son,” Brandon said, taking over the conversation. “I was in DC giving a talk at the Press Club on the future of foreign surveillance in an evolving technological world and didn’t get home until close to seven p.m.”

“Glad to see you parlayed your government service into something lucrative,” Zack said accusingly.

Brandon huffed slightly, and said, “Didn’t you? Don’t you have a little private company that develops software for the DOD, unless my information is wrong?”

Zack sat silently, rebuffed with nothing clever to reply. Bastard has a point.

“Like I was saying, I got home, and Josh told me right away. I tried to log in using a few of the admin passwords some of the IT guys showed me at the agency, but none of them worked. I honestly thought the whole situation was odd, but it wasn’t alarming. Like Josh said, equipment gets lost, mislabeled, misplaced all the time. It’s a fact of government life. After thinking about it, and because of all the leaks the IC has had in recent years since the last election, I figured better safe than sorry, and I called a friend of mine still at the agency. Left him a voicemail, but I hadn’t heard back yet.”

Like a predatory lion that’s just picked up the scent of prey, Zack perked up in his chair. Who doesn’t return a call from Brandon Harper, retired director of the Clandestine Service and legendary superspy of the CIA? “Whom did you call?” Zack asked.

“Terrence Rockford, the current executive director of the agency,” Brandon replied. “Why?”