Free Death of Secrets by Bowen Greenwood

pay for his coffee.
     
    ***
     
    Nathan Jacobs joined Mike and Tilman for lunch, easing into a
chair and waving at the waitress for a cup of coffee. His memories of the
hearing were unpleasant ones.
    The public and the press just hated his agency these days. That
bothered him. He did the work because he wanted to serve people. But no one
seemed to believe he was doing that. It seemed like everyone in that hearing
saw the NSA as a threat, not a protector.
    Jacobs said as much, and Tilman nodded. "Yeah, well, the
screeching about privacy intrusions went on forever, but in the end we’re going
to be able to beat that."
    Mike grunted. "Not like I’m a hundred percent comfortable
with how much electronic snooping you guys do."
    "Worth it, Mike. Better this than another September
11th." Tilman responded.
    "I know, I know, I've heard that a time or two," the
Congressman replied.
    Jacobs chimed in. "Look, we all ask ourselves questions
about it now and then. I know I do. I mean, how much surveillance do we really
need? But what we do makes a difference."
    "Hey, you know I’m on your side. I’m just saying…"
    The businessman nodded. "Yeah, I know. National Security
costs a lot, and not just money."
    Jacobs asked Tilman, "What can we do to improve our odds
of getting this through?"
    Tilman replied, "I'm going to educate some people about
the cost-benefit analysis. It’s slated for bright and early Monday
morning."
    Vincent rolled his eyes. "What is it about the power
breakfast that Washington likes so much?"
    Tilman patted him on the back. "Don’t come if you don’t
want to. The main people I want there are the opponents."
    "That’s a relief. My scheduler was throwing fits. I have a
PAC fundraising breakfast too that morning, she didn’t want me to have to
shuttle between them."
    "Speaking of her, what’s got your schedule so busy
tonight?" Tilman asked.
    Mike took his time replying. Tilman was just going to prod him
when Mike finally spoke. "I’m in way over my head," he said, looking
down into a lunchtime beer.
    Tilman kept silent, waiting for his friend to go on, but Jacobs
asked, "What’s wrong?"
    "OK, this will sound crazy, I know. I wouldn’t believe it
myself except that I’ve lived it."
    Jacobs raised an eyebrow at his friend. "Try me."
    "Thing is, Nate, it’s a lot more up your alley than mine.
You guys know that girl at the club, Kathy?"
    Tilman grinned. "Of course! Anything involving her can’t
be all bad news for you."
    "Well, yeah, it does have a silver lining. I’m getting to
know her a lot better. But listen, she found this flash drive. She was walking
home from work two nights ago and found a guy who’d been shot, and she goes to
help him and the guy hands her this flash drive. She goes for help, calls 911,
comes back and the body is gone . Then all of a sudden people are
breaking into her dorm room, trying to kill her, and since she’s dragged
me into it they’re trying to kill me, too, in the process. It’s like James Bond
or something. They broke into my house last night, for pity’s sake! And
we can’t even read whatever’s on the flash drive to see what’s so bloody
important about it."
    Tilman gritted his teeth and clutched the edge of the table.
Nathan gasped. "You got broken into? Was anything stolen?"
    "No, but the whole place is full of bullet holes! Bullet
holes, Nathan! I had a gunfight at my house last night. I’m not
crazy and I’m not pulling your leg! It’s the most insane thing I’ve ever
seen."
    Both his friends blinked at the same time, and simply stared at
him. Nathan was the first to speak. "Um, Mike… I don’t mean to be a jerk,
but the girl is a cocktail waitress. Has it occurred to you that she’s
got, like, drug trouble or mob trouble and concocted this flash drive story to
get you to get her out of it?"
    Michael sighed. "Yeah, that would be possible, except for
two things: one, I know the girl, and she’s aboveboard. You’ve just got to take
my word for that.