Free They'll Call It Treason by Jordon Greene Page A

midnight sky.
    “Yes, I’m Agent Shaw,” Ethan introduced himself.
    “And I’m Agent Greer. Detective Haskins?” Jason responded, remembering that booming voice from their phone conversation the evening before.
    Detective Haskins let a grin form across his full lips as he nodded, “Welcome to Atlanta.”
    “Thank you, sir,” Ethan replied, refraining from mentioning the horrible traffic. “I trust security at the DNC has been tightened.”
    “Yes, we have units stationed at the exit and entrance roads and surveying the premises of the building.” The detective’s deep voice rolled on, “If you’re ready, I have Russell being brought to an interrogation room for you.”
    Jason nodded, and the detective turned and walked in the opposite direction, leading them through the maze of cubicles. His gait was long. Ethan quickened his pace to keep up. They reached a door at the other side of the cubicles, past the hustle of officers and the detective punched in a passcode. The light above the keypad went green and Detective Haskins pressed the door open.
    Beyond the doorway a long corridor of painted white cinderblocks led ahead.  A glass-walled control station sat to their right as they entered. Ethan caught sight of a plethora of security monitors behind the glass divider. Detective Haskins nodded to the men behind the steel-barred window and a loud electronic squawking signaled the unlocking of the next door as it slid open in front of them.
    After a few more loud buzzes and barred doors, they walked into a small room. There was a bare, narrow metal table set in the center with two matching metal chairs on either end.
    “He should be here shortly,” Haskins assured them after entering the barren room. He paused and after a deep breath posed a question, “Do you really think Congressman Burr’s in danger?”
    Jason responded, “We don’t know. We do have reason to believe Russell’s working for someone or something much bigger than just himself though.”
    Ethan stepped forward, “That’s what worries us. If someone with more means, more competence, is orchestrating something, we need to know.”
    At that moment the door creaked open. David Russell shuffled in, his hands cuffed with an officer guiding him from behind. Russell eyed Ethan and Jason worriedly as he was prompted to enter and take a seat. The officer locked his handcuffs into the small metal loop melded into the table and then left the room.
    Yep, town drunk.
    “Mr. Russell, meet Special Agents Jason Phelps and Ethan Shaw with the FBI,” Haskins introduced them pointing to each as he named them. “They want to talk with you about Congressman Burr.”
    Ethan sat down at the table across from Russell and slapped a file on the cold surface. He breathed in deep and exhaled.
    “David Russell. Age 33, from Sparta, Georgia.” Ethan rattled off a few quick details about their witness. It was cliché, but something about it made him feel like he was in the movies. “Looks like you have a small record. One count of trespassing on private property, two DUI convictions. Oh, yes, and one illegal solicitation of a prostitute.”
    “I bet the wife just loves that one,” Jason interjected, masking his distaste for the man.
    Ethan did not miss a beat, “So two days ago, you were pulled for a third DUI charge.”
    Ethan leaned back in his chair.
    “You registered a point eleven blood alcohol level, and as if that wasn’t enough, the K-9 unit found a little something extra. Let’s see,” Ethan made a show of checking the man’s record again. “One hundred and seventy-five grams of crystal meth stashed in the driver’s side door panel.”
    Ethan paused and let the information register. He could see the lights moving in Russell’s mind, “Mr. Russell, you could go to jail for a very long time for the drugs alone.”
    Jason stepped forward, placing his left fist on the table as he leaned in, “But that’s not all you could go to jail for, Mr.