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I’ve never spoken to her so abruptly before. A look of apprehension washes over her face, but she approaches and stands on the other side of the wooden desk.
“Do you have a cell phone on you?” I ask to ensure she doesn’t copy any of the information contained within the vault.
“N-No, sir.”
“The shelf behind you has hard drives on it. I want you to plug in each and every one and tell me if there’s anything on them.”
“And if there’s not?”
Leaning across the table, I glare at her. “If there’s not, you’ll tell no one. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Picking up my cell phone from my desk, I dial Bernardo Valli and continue walking until I’m outside. He doesn’t answer, and it goes to voice mail.
“Call me back,now!”
Frustrated, I thrust the cell phone into my coat pocket, do an about-face, and head for the faculty parking lot. My driver opens the door to my car, and I climb in.
“Where to, Dean?”
“Just drive.”
Sensing my mood, he closes the glass between us, and I rest my head on the seat, staring at the ceiling.
The vault is impenetrable.
The information it contains is invaluable to me and Stonewall University.
Apart from today, the only person who’s ever gone in there is me.
Sitting upright in my seat, I remember Special Agent Flint Armstrong followed me in with his briefcase.The fucking briefcase.I didn’t check. But surely a member of the FBI wouldn’t be in league with the likes of Jamison Felder?
The man is a fucking thorn in my side.
Pulling my cell phone out of my pocket, I dial Special Agent Flint Armstrong. It, too, goes to voicemail.
“Special Agent Flint Armstrong, it’s Jonathan Stonewall. Could you please give me an update on the case? I look forward to your call.”
The founding families of the university will not like losing all the information we have on some of the most powerful people in the world. Thankfully, most of it is backed up and stored at another site, except for everything we’ve acquired in the past month.
Simon Bartlett.
He’s the only person I’ve held to ransom, but I offered him everything he wanted—the most powerful position in our government, President of the United States. We could’ve helped him achieve that goal. Why would he not want money, power, and fame? Why would someone like Jamison Felder want to destroy any information on him, and why would a member of the FBI help him?
It doesn’t make sense.
My cell phone rings, and I answer it on the third ring. “Jonathan Stonewall.”
“Hello, Dean Stonewall. Special Agent Flint Armstrong returning your call.”
“Ahh, yes, I was wondering how the investigation is going?”
“Not well, I’m afraid. There’s no chatter on any of the usual places. This leads us to believe they had buyers in placebeforethey stole it.”
Closing my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. “Right.”
“Is everything okay, Dean?”
