Page 15 of Crossfire

Sure, spying and tracking someone’s identity weren’t my swim lane in the CIA, but still.

“Let me ask you something,” I started. “If the police brought someone in to give a statement or even for questioning, what are the odds that they would give the CIA their information?”

Daniel’s voice was hesitant. “There are laws against that.”

“Laws against cooperating with the CIA to protect this country?”

“Laws to protect the privacy of US citizens, and law enforcement upholds them, else they could be in deep shit.”

Yeah, well, there are laws against murder, too, but here we are.

“But let’s say that person might be a suspect or a witness that could help bring down a direct threat to United States citizens. Would they enforce it then?”

I could picture Daniel’s broad shoulders pulling back as he inhaled, probably scrubbing that silver beard of his as he finally answered.

“Police will not give us the identity of a person giving a statement or brought in for questioning.”

I clenched my eyes at the certainty in his tone.

“What if we show them it’s part of a CIA investigation?” I countered.

“Chances are low, and even then, it would require the involvement of a judge and a whole procedure with evidence and hearings. Hearings with information the CIA doesn’t want released.”

How was it possible that something as simple as asking for a goddamned name could be this complicated?

“So, you think if I were to walk into a police station right now and tell them what was going on—just high level, not details—they still would not cooperate?”

“You already know we can’t tell anyone anything, so I’m not sure why you’re even asking me this.”

Desperate brainstorming, hoping for a loophole—that’s why.

“You know we have to keep information contained, even from other government branches. It’s crucial for our organization’s success and for protecting US secrets. I don’t need to remind you of that.”

I ground my teeth. “I’m simply asking if there are any ways to get a name from the cops.”

“If we can’t do our job without tipping off law enforcement, we should not be doing our job at all.”

I had no right to feel offended; it was weak, hoping the police department could help me with a name. This was my mess. I shit the bed. It was embarrassing to ask another branch of the government to hand me a mop to clean it; I’d go get the mop myself—or at worst, at least contain the cleanup to my team.

“I assume this has something to do with our surprise guest?” Daniel deduced.

“You know about her,” I confirmed.

“Seth gave me the debrief, but I want to hear whatyouknow.”

I rubbed my brow bone. “Female. Late twenties. No accent that I heard, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have one. Dark brown hair. Five foot three, one hundred and ten pounds.”

“Any identifying features?”

“No tattoos or piercings that I observed.”

“The description is vague enough to match millions of people,” he chided. “We need to find out if she’s working with Nightshade or the buyer he was supposed to meet.”

I hesitated, clearing my throat before dropping the bomb. A different one this time, no pun intended.

“I think she’s just a civilian.”

A pause.

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