Federal Sweep

Then the front doors opened hard, and a line of federal agents came in with badges out and hands already moving. One went straight to Cole, took his wrist, and twisted the gun free before he could think better of it. Another stepped to the desk and shouted for the lobby to clear.

The room changed in a second. Phones stopped ringing. A couple of uniforms froze with coffee cups halfway up. Sergeant Miller at the counter stared over his glasses like he’d seen a ghost.

Chief Vale came out of the corridor with his tie half loose, face already gone gray. “What is this?”

Claire finally turned. “Containment. Lock the building down.”

Vale’s mouth opened, then shut. He looked at the agents, the transport van outside, the forensic case rolling in behind them. The smile he usually wore was gone.

“Claire, we should speak in my office.”

“No.”

Marcus Vance handed her a radio earpiece without stopping. “Inner gate is secure.”

“Good,” she said. “Take Cole.”

Travis jerked against the agent holding him. “You can’t just walk in here and—”

“Shut up,” the agent said.

They moved through the corridor fast, past the bullpen and the buzzing copier, toward the records room threshold. Two more federal agents were already there with a warrant packet and camera gear. The door had been propped open with a trash can. Inside, the air smelled like dust and hot toner.

The hidden stairwell dropped down behind a steel access panel marked STORAGE ONLY. Claire saw the scrape marks on the floor first. Then the black smudges on the wall where somebody had been shuttling boxes in and out for months.

Miller swallowed hard when he saw the forms in the agents’ hands. He made a small sign with his swollen fingers, not crossing himself so much as bracing.