Chapter 8 - The FBI Office
It was two in the morning when I pulled up to the heavily guarded federal building downtown.
I ran to the front gates, shivering in the pouring rain, and banged on the reinforced glass.
"I need to see Agent Vance!" I yelled to the security guard inside.
The guard looked at me skeptically, but something in my frantic demeanor made him pick up a phone.
Ten minutes later, a tall woman with sharp eyes and a crisp suit walked into the lobby.
"I'm Special Agent Vance," she said, looking me up and down.
I pulled the USB drive from my shoe and slammed it onto the metal security counter.
"My parents are Mark and Linda," I panted, out of breath.
"David Thorne told me to bring this directly to you."
Her expression changed instantly from mild annoyance to dead seriousness.
She grabbed my arm, pulled me through the security checkpoint, and led me into a secure briefing room.
She plugged the drive into a disconnected laptop and began typing rapidly.
Rows of offshore bank accounts, transaction histories, and cartel contacts flooded the screen.
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"This is it," she whispered, her eyes reflecting the glowing data.
"This is the kill shot we've been hunting for three years."
