For the next five days, I’ll sleep at the office if I have to. No way in hell am I leaving the evidence alone with any other agent. If a question were to arise, I want to be here to smooth it over.

Hell week, here we go.

My family is on the line.

***

“What the hell do you mean there isn’t any evidence on the tapes?” Frank bellows several days later.

He’s standing at the head of the conference table and is so furious the veins in his neck are throbbing. The three other ATF agents working the investigation are seated at the other end of the table near me. From the looks on their faces, they’re all wishing they could crawl under the table and hide. Luckily, Frank’s wrath is directed at me instead of them.

“I’m as upset and shocked as you are,” I say. “I don’t know how we could be so far off base about the Steel Infidels. Obviously our intelligence has been wrong from the very beginning.” I pick up a file and hold it up. “Remember our source in Bardsville? The preacher who tipped us off about the illegal alcohol sales? Turns out he is screwing one of his church member’s fifteen-year-old daughter. The local cops arrested him yesterday.”

With my help of course. I hacked the man’s computer and anonymously sent all the info to the local police department.

“Are you kidding me?” Frank slams his hand on the table and starts pacing back and forth between the table and the whiteboard.

I sit back and mentally prepare myself for the oncoming temper tantrum. He whirls around and points a finger at me.

“You were the lead agent on this investigation. You said they were shipping in loads of alcohol and selling it out of the back of the tattoo shop. I’ve never known you to screw up this bad before. Or screw up at all. What the hell happened?”

“It was all bullshit,” I say. “The Steel Infidels are nothing but a bunch of weekend bikers. Riding around town on their noisy motorcycles, talking big and spreading rumors about how tough they are. None of it is true.”

Frank opens his mouth in surprise and closes it again. “What are you saying?” he asks. “That they spread rumors about themselves to build a reputation as badasses?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Let me give you an example. Sam bragged that he knew a couple of moonshiners and offered to take me to meet them. When we get there, the moonshiners turned out to be his old aunt who makes apple brandy in her kitchen. Can you believe it? That’s the kind of crazy stuff I went through the whole time I was working undercover.”

I lean back in the chair and cross my arms.