Page 446 of Broken Oath

I freeze.

Graves answers, “We don’t know who overheard the earlier conversation.”

For the first time, I hear a fracture in his composure.

Not uncertainty.

Fear.

“The hallway cameras were disabled for scheduled maintenance,” Miller says. “No one should have been there.”

“Someone was there,” Graves replies. “I can feel it.”

I step away from the door.

Slowly.

Carefully.

One step.

Then another.

My heart begins pounding hard enough to hurt.

The recorder in my bag holds enough to prove Graves, Miller, and Rhodes are planning an assassination.

Enough to destroy them.

Enough to get me killed before I reach the parking garage.

A hinge whispers behind me.

The door is opening.

I don’t look back.

Running would confirm everything.

I force myself to walk at the same unhurried pace, even though every muscle in my body is braced for a bullet.

I reach the curve in the corridor.

“Agent Hart.”

I stop.

My blood turns to ice.

Walter Graves stands beside the open door. His silver hair is perfectly combed. His suit jacket is unbuttoned, and his expression is as calm as it is during congressional briefings.

Miller and Rhodes stand behind him.

So do two armed security officers.

Graves smiles. “Working late?”

I turn and force myself to return it.