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“Yes,” Noa says, “and we’ll pass on more information to you, so that generations from now, when people think of theWashington Post,they won’t recall Woodward and Bernstein. They’ll think of Kay Darcy.”
Kay picks up her pen, then lowers it. “How did Donna die?”
“Suicide.”
“How?”
“Cyanide, hidden in a toothpaste tube. My team and I were there, taking her into custody, when she killed herself.”
Noa is surprised to see tears come to Kay’s eyes. “Donna loved the Agency, loved her father, too,” the reporter eventually says. “That’s why she joined. She wanted to be in the Directorate of Operations, but it didn’t work out. She was determined to do a good job, not embarrass the Agency, but something came across her desk that concerned her. That’s why she came to me.”
“Why you?”
Kay says, “Sorority sisters, back at Northwestern. Funny, eh?”
“What did she bring you?”
The briefest of hesitations, and Noa says, “Your turn, Kay. We’re going to see this through, the two of us.”
A small shake of the head. “Donna was part of a division that oversaw the president’s Special Access Account.”
“The president’s own slush fund for pet projects. What didn’t she like?”
“A number of officers who were in the Directorate of Operations and the Special Activities Division were now being paid from the Special Access Account. Paying salaries from that fund, that’s never done. There were also unauthorized transfers of huge sums of money to FEMA, earmarked for Mount Weather and Raven Rock. That’s also never done. Donna told me that it was like President Barrett was beefing up those government retreat bunkers without any oversight, like he had advance knowledge that a war was going to break out.”
Dear God,Noa thinks.
“Go on.”
“Donna said there were odd purchases here and there. Special surveillance equipment. Hacking programs from people that populate the dark web. Firearms, C4 explosives … hell, even the purchase of a Town Car through a series of cutouts so it couldn’t be traced.”
Noa freezes at the last phrase.
“A Town Car? Really?”
“Really,” Kay says. “Why in the world would the President need C4, weapons, and a damn Town Car?”
She recalls the ambush in Virginia, near the National Ground Intelligence Center, and the Town Car that was recovered, stuffed with weapons and C4.
Why in the world, indeed?
Noa is about to say something when the lights flicker in Kay’s apartment.
They blink again.
“What the …”
Noa gets up from the table. “You ever have utility problems or brownouts here?”
“Never.”
She reaches into her purse, pulls out her 10mm Glock.
“Call 911, right now. Someone’s breaking into your apartment.”
“But … nothing’s happening!”
Noa says, “Trust me, they’re coming.”
