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paused for a second, looking directly at me. Did he suspect something? Did he know about Justin? “Mark, you continue to work on figuring out what Silvers is up to here in D.C., and Stevie, see what the other agencies are saying. Maybe someone knows something they’re not talking about yet.”
    I tried not to overreact to Roc’s new orders. Ordinarily, Roc would never pull Stevie off his hunt for who was supplying the FLA with its weapons, even for someone as important as Jeremiah Silvers. This kind of interagency information gathering usually fell on me. So why wasn’t it now? Could this really be because of what happened last night? I tried to read some vibe into Roc’s glance, but he wasn’t giving anything away. Apparently, no one else seemed to think it strange that Roc went to Stevie instead of me. Maybe I was just being paranoid.
    “You want me to have him picked up? A few hours of intense interrogation and I’m betting he’d be willing to talk. At least he’d know we’re watching him.”
    “He knows we’re watching him already, Stevie. Don’t sell Silvers short. He’s known all along that we’d pick him up once he hit D.C. Clearly, he’s not worried. Why should he be? We haven’t been able to make a single charge against the man stick in the past. He’s too good at covering his tracks.”
    “More like killing off all witnesses. I say let’s shake him up just a little, Roc. I mean, we are the frigging FBI.”
    “As much as I might want to agree with you, Stevie, we can’t afford to just yet. We need to find out what he’s up to. Besides, you’d never get him to crack under force. He’s too good. I’ll have someone keep an eye on him. With any luck, maybe this time we won’t lose him again.” Roc didn’t bother to state the obvious—that hopefully, one of our own hadn’t tipped Jeremiah off to our surveillance already. “Let’s see if we can find out what he’s really up to in D.C. before it’s too late.”
    Roc ignored Stevie’s obvious disappointment and turned to Lissa. “Lissa, you were running a check on those reported funds being transferred from a known terrorist-friendly bank in the Caymans to a local institute here in D.C. Did anything come of that?”
    As our accounting and financial specialist, Lissa knew terrorists relied heavily on financial support to buy weapons as well as bankroll their missions. Lissa was very good at her job. She knew how to find the money. But even though she’d been with the team longer than I had, she didn’t have a great deal of training in the field. In some ways, Lissa was a liability to us all.
    “Right, Roc. As it turns out, this wasn’t the first time this has happened. There were a couple of other incidents in the past, but the amounts were small enough not to attract any attention.”
    For months now, thanks to Mark’s intel, we’d been expecting something to break. All the signs were there, if Mark’s sources were to be trusted. He’d been predicting it would be major due to an unusual increase of interesting chatter among the terrorist cells. I’d seen evidence of this on the sites I monitored.
    Over the years, Mark had developed his own method of gathering valuable intel from various sources, or deep diving as it was called in The Agency. He cultivated quite a few snitches within the terrorist groups in the U.S., with the exception of the FLA. I guess loyalty didn’t mean much with these people. Mark told me once there was nothing more accommodating than a terrorist down on his luck.
    Roc knew he used these people—we all did. Roc didn’t approve of Mark’s tactics, but in our line of work, the end usually justified the means.
    “Okay people, I’d say we have our work cut out for us, so plan on meeting back here at the end of the week. Hopefully, by then we’ll have some clue as to why the Bureau’s number one terrorist is right here in our very own city,” Roc said.
    It was well after midnight before the meeting