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forecasted budget was increased by thirty-two percent.”
    Riggs said it matter-of-factly, as if reciting a baseball player’s batting average. There was no accusatory tone. Just the facts.
    Fisk stopped. His face tightened and his hands clenched into fists. “Are you shitting me?” Fisk glared at Ken Morris, then Louis Dutton, then Walt. His mouth curled up into a nasty scowl. “Is this what we’ve become?” he asked. “Keeping intelligence from each other to gain budgetary dollars?”
    “It’s more complicated than that, Sam,” Morris said.
    Fisk ignored Morris. He looked to his left with disappointment on his face. “Walt?”
    Walt took a breath. “Sam, if you saw the intel which came across my desk every day, you’d never leave your house. The enemy uses diversion and disinformation as a tactic to keep us occupied. Agents Hernandez and Braden were on the verge of verifying the legitimacy of this lead when they were ambushed. They’d been imbedded in one of Antonio Garza’s crews for six months before their murder. Did I know for certain the threat was legit? No. But we’ll find out.”
    “And that’s why Dennis isn’t here?” Fisk said, commented on the absence of the Director of Homeland Security.
    “We can’t afford any more leaks,” Riggs said. “The smaller the circle, the less chance for an ambush.”
    Fisk turned toward the CIA Director. “Ken?”
    Morris drummed his fingers on the table waiting his turn. He seemed to consider his words. “Well, I agree with Walt. We’d heard through our Mid-East operatives there was a delivery coming into Mexico so we contracted with a private firm which already had active contacts within the cartels. They were doling out information sparingly as we negotiated terms for payment.”
    “You mean we were paying them for information?”
    “Yes.”
    “And how far along did we get?”
    “Like I said, we were in negotiation—”
    “Negotiation?”
    Morris looked to Martin Riggs for help and the Defense Secretary nodded.
    “Yes,” Riggs said. “Sometimes these firms will become aware of a huge source of information and raise the price. Like paying someone to mine for copper, then they strike gold and want to renegotiate.”
    “Only we can’t see the gold until we pay them,” Morris finished for him. “We have to take this lead seriously though. There’s too much buzz out there.”
    “How much money are these guys asking for?”
    “Two million,” Morris said.
    “And?” Fisk held out his open hands and looked at Riggs.
    The Defense Secretary shrugged. “That’s more money than we had available for this operation. It puts us in a position to bring it to a Senate Committee for approval.” Then Riggs gave Fisk a curious expression. He seemed to be looking for a tacit answer to an unasked question.
    Fisk gazed around the table at the group of department heads staring at him. “You want me to ask the President if we can use black ops money to fund this thing?”
    Everyone knew Fisk was the second most powerful man in the world. He’d grown up childhood friends with President Merrick and had gained Merrick’s confidence almost to a fault. Merrick had allowed Fisk to run foreign affairs on his own terms, even against Merrick’s own policies, but Fisk had never let him down.
    Fisk sighed. “Okay, who’s our enemy here? And how are we going to proceed?”
    “They’re a group of militants out of Syria,” Walt said. “Former members of Hamas who were displeased with the passive direction the organization was headed. They want to make a name for themselves and this seems to be the quickest route.”
    Fisk tapped a fist over his mouth. “Who do we have down there right now?”
    “Nick and Matt are running the operation,” Walt said.
    Fisk blew out a breath. “Thank goodness.” He glanced around the table. “You need to understand something. President Salcido is in a tough battle for reelection down there. We’ve spent years on an agreement