Page 217 of Power
“That’ll work.”
As planned, they drove her to the DC police station.
She and Nikki talked strategy, discussed options, reviewed Guy Chenkus’s and Cary Newburg’s cases. She loved bouncing ideas off Nikki, feeling confident she was making headway. If her plan worked, she’d be arresting more than one person in the next twenty-four hours.
Even more so, she felt thrilled to be back in the game. She’d missed her life and was done hiding in the wings, watching from the shadows.
By three forty-five, Nikki had secured a court order. Armed with a pen capable of recording their conversation, Simone left the station and ducked into the Range Rover waiting at the curb.
Five-minutes later, Stuart dropped her at FBI headquarters.
As she rode the elevator, her heart pounded faster than usual. There were so many ways her conversation with Peter could go. She was hoping for his cooperation, but expected pushback. Deputy Director Hirzog wouldnotcome quietly.
Upstairs in the executive department, while waiting in reception, a calmness settled over her. She was there to get answers and she wasn’t leaving until she had them.
At just after four, several people exited a nearby conference room, one of them Carrera.
“Good luck,” Carrera murmured before heading toward his office.
Simone didn’t need luck. She needed the madness stopped and the bad actors locked away. It sounded like a lot, but she just wanted to do her damn job. And do it well. She had enough to arrest Hirzog, but she wasn’t sure if she had enough to get a conviction.
Peter had just broken away from the group. Their eyes met. She pasted on a cheery smile. “There he is.”
“Red, good to see you.” Bags hung heavy under Peter’s eyes, his rueful smile telling the real story. He ushered her into his office, shut the door.
“How are you doing?” she asked.
“It’s been rough.” After a beat, he said, “Lucy told meyoustopped by with Santini. What was that about?”
She was there to question him, not be questioned by him. Instead of answering, she pulled a photo from her computer bag, set it on his desk. It was the picture she’d taken of Peter’s laptop, open to ALPHA’s secure website. In the photo’s background was his home.
“How do you have access to ALPHAnet?” she began.
He stared at the picture, furrowed his brow. “What is that?”
“Seriously? You’re asking me? It’s from your house. Your laptop was open and ALPHA’s website had been accessed.” She pulled out another photo, this one with a close-up showing the line item for her working The Bomb Maker case. “Why are you tracking this?”
He read it, then shook his head. “I have no idea what that is.”
“Is that your home?”
“Yes. Why are you questioning me about this?”
“Peter, why are you tracking ALPHA?”
“I’mnot.”
“Isn’t that your laptop?” she asked.
He pulled a laptop from his computer bag. “Thisis my laptop. That’s an old one I let Jerod use when he’d swing by.”
Anger streaked through her. “Then, why is Jerod tracking ALPHA?”
“I have no idea,” he replied.
She studied his face. It didn’t appear that he was lying, but her trust of him had been shattered. She slapped her Joelle James FBI badge on his desk.
“I’m working The Bomb Maker case, and you’re a suspect.”
