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“Officer Langston Jamal Clark. You’ve been selected to assist us in our fight against the corrupt practices of your government that have plagued our nation. We require your assistance because you possess unparalleled access to your country’s mainframe. It’s imperative that you take us seriously. If you don’t respond within our provided timeframe, we’ll be forced to take drastic measures.”
The masked man rattled off an address.
“Meet us here, noon tomorrow. Don’t be a second late.”
The screen went black, then pixels filled the screen as the video self-destructed.
Langston gritted his teeth, picked up the phone, and dialed his superior in Washington, DC—Chief of Staff Spencer Kilpatrick. The call went to voice mail. Langston cursed and called Spencer’s cell phone, and he answered on the third ring.
“Executive Assistant Director, I’m in the middle of a meeting, but if you can call me back in fifteen minutes, I can take your call.”
“Spencer, I need your attention now, and you know I wouldn’t tell you that unless it was dire.”
“Just a moment.”
The line went silent for thirty seconds, then Kilpatrick returned. “Is this an encrypted line?”
“It is not.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m home in Chicago.”
“Good. I’m in Chicago for the Chic Gala my wife so desperately wants to attend. I can meet you at your home or somewhere else—name it.”
“Come here.” Langston rattled off his address.
“I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”
Langston hung up the phone and took a deep breath. His mind was racing with the possibilities of what could happen if he didn’t comply with the demands of the men in the video. He knew that compromising the security of his country’s mainframe was not an option. He needed to come up with a plan fast.
As he waited for Spencer to arrive, Langston paced back and forth in his office. He tried calling his team members, but no one answered. They must have been busy with other assignments. But this was no ordinary assignment. This was a matter of national security.
When Spencer arrived, Langston led him to his study and sat him down in front of his computer.
“What’s going on, Clark?” he asked.
Langston pressed play on the video that had been sent to him and as Spencer watched, his face grew pale and strained, the color fading.
“This is serious,” Spencer said, rubbing his chin. “Off the top of your head, do you have any idea who these men are?”
“No, but they seem to know me and have somehow gained access to my internal email.”
“We need to contact the FBI immediately,” Spencer said, standing up. “We’ll have to get them in on this to cover our basics. But in the meantime, the only thing we can do is wait this out.”
Langston frowned. “Wait it out? For them to do something that’ll hurt citizens? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“The truth is we don’t know what they’re planning. So the only lead we have is the meetup spot.”
“I should meet them.”
“And do what?”
“Pretend I’ll give in to their demands.”
“A group like this isn’t stupid. They’ll know it’s a setup.”
“The one talking made himself clear that he wouldn’t hesitate to react if we do nothing.”
