THE SHERIFF CUFFED A BLACK WOMAN IN A ROADSIDE DINER—HE HAD NO IDEA SHE WAS THE FEDERAL JUDGE ABOUT TO DESTROY HIS ENTIRE COUNTY

The emergency lights returned forty seconds later.

Forty seconds was long enough for someone to disappear.

It was also long enough for someone to die.

The FBI technician lay unconscious near the interview-room door. His evidence pouch was missing. Thomas Reed had vanished.

And Special Agent Elena Brooks was staring at her radio as though it had become a poisonous animal.

"Agent Brooks," I said, "who is Director Harlan?""

She didn't answer.

I repeated the question.

"Who is he?""

She looked at me.

"Deputy Director of the FBI's regional operations division.""

"Does he have authority over this investigation?""

"Not directly.""

"Then why is he issuing orders?""

Her jaw tightened.

"That's what I'm trying to determine.""

The radio crackled again.

"Brooks, respond.""

She switched it off.

A younger agent rushed into the room.

"Agent, the rear gate is open. We found a vehicle outside.""

"Thomas?""

"Negative. No visual.""

"What about the recording?""

"Missing.""

Brooks closed her eyes.

I approached the table.

"How many people knew the flash drive was here?""

"Four," she replied.

"Me, you, Linda Haskins, and the technician.""

"Plus Sheriff Voss and Deputy Curtis.""

"Neither of them had access after the arrest.""

She looked toward the corridor.

"Someone knew where to look.""

I picked up my denim jacket.

The note Martha had slipped into my pocket was still there.

So was the small transmitter.

"Agent Brooks, I need a secure telephone.""

"Your Honor, we need to move.""

"I am not leaving until we know whether the evidence has been compromised.""

She stared at me.

"With respect, Judge, somebody just attacked a federal operation to get you and that recording. This building is no longer secure.""

She had a point.

I nodded.

"Then move me somewhere secure.""

Within minutes, we were in an armored FBI vehicle.

Two agents rode in front.

Brooks sat beside me.

The detention center disappeared behind us.

Through the tinted window, I watched flashing lights illuminate the county road.

Then my phone began ringing.

It was an unfamiliar number.

Brooks shook her head.

"Don't answer.""

I looked at the screen.

The call came again.

Then a text appeared.

*YOUR CLERK IS NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO BETRAYED YOU.*

A second message followed.

*ASK ELENA WHAT HAPPENED IN ATLANTA THREE YEARS AGO.*

I turned toward Brooks.

She had seen the message.

Her expression was unreadable.

"Do you know what this means?"" I asked.

She looked out the window.

"Someone is trying to make you distrust me.""

"Are they succeeding?""

"No.""

"Then answer the question.""

She exhaled.

"Three years ago, I investigated a police corruption case in Atlanta. One of the witnesses disappeared before trial.""

"What happened?""

"He was found dead.""

"Was anyone prosecuted?""

"No.""

"Why?""

She stared at her hands.

"Because evidence from the investigation was leaked.""

I waited.

She continued.

"I was the lead agent. The leak came from inside the bureau.""

"And Director Harlan?""

"He was my supervisor.""

The vehicle slowed.

A red light appeared ahead.

The driver looked into the rearview mirror.

"Agent Brooks?""

"What?""

"There's a vehicle behind us.""

She turned.

A black pickup truck was following at a distance.

Its headlights were off.

"Speed up," Brooks ordered.

The driver accelerated.

The pickup accelerated too.

Brooks reached for her weapon.

"Call it in.""

The driver grabbed his radio.

"Control, this is Unit Seven. We have a suspicious vehicle following our transport.""

A burst of static answered.

Then a voice.

"Unit Seven, pull over immediately.""

Brooks frowned.

"Who is that?""

The driver looked at the radio.

"Control.""

"That's not dispatch.""

Before he could respond, the black pickup swerved around us.

A second vehicle appeared from a side road.

The driver slammed the brakes.

Our SUV skidded onto the shoulder.

The pickup stopped in front of us.

Two men climbed out.

Both wore dark clothing.

One raised a rifle.

"DOWN!""

Brooks pushed me against the seat.

The windshield shattered.

The driver slumped forward.

The second agent fired through the passenger window.

The men retreated behind the pickup.

Brooks opened her door and returned fire.

I pulled the driver down from his seat and checked his neck.

He was breathing.

Barely.

"Judge!"" Brooks shouted.

"Stay down!""

The second agent was bleeding from his upper arm.

I crawled behind the vehicle.

Bullets struck the rear door.

Then sirens sounded in the distance.

The attackers jumped into the pickup and sped away.

Brooks ran to the driver.

"Medic! We need a medic!""

I stood.

"Who knew this route?""

She looked at me.

"Only the transport coordinator and Director Harlan.""

I didn't answer.

We both understood.

Someone inside the bureau was directing the attacks.

An hour later, we reached a secure federal building outside the county.

I was placed in a conference room with a telephone and a cup of untouched coffee.

Brooks stood by the door.

"Your Honor, I need to ask you something.""

"Go ahead.""

"Do you have a personal relationship with anyone at the courthouse who might have access to the sealed investigation?""

"No.""

"Any family members employed there?""

"No.""

She hesitated.

"Then why would someone target you personally?""

I looked at her.

"Because I was about to sign the warrants.""

"What warrants?""

"The federal seizure warrants involving Randolph County's forfeiture accounts.""

She stared at me.

"How much money?""

"Preliminary estimates suggest more than twenty-three million dollars.""

Her expression changed.

"Twenty-three million?""

"Over seven years.""

I placed my hands on the table.

"Some of that money came from citizens who were stopped without probable cause. Some came from businesses threatened with criminal charges. Some came from accounts belonging to people who were never convicted of anything.""

"Who controls the accounts?""

"The county treasurer on paper. The actual transfers appear to involve several private entities.""

Brooks looked toward the door.

"Your Honor, there's something else.""

She placed a document on the table.

It was a bank transfer authorization.

The amount was $750,000.

The recipient was a company called Southern Heritage Consulting.

The authorization bore the electronic signature of a federal official.

I recognized the name.

Deputy Director Harlan.

But the date was what mattered.

The payment had been made three days after Marcus Price died.

"Where did you get this?"" I asked.

"From a financial intelligence analyst.""

"Is the analyst reliable?""

"He disappeared yesterday.""

I looked up.

"Disappeared?""

"His apartment was empty. His car was found abandoned near the airport.""

I studied the document.

"Then we have a problem.""

Brooks nodded.

"We do.""

She turned toward the window.

"Your Honor, I don't think we can trust anyone in the regional bureau.""

"Then we go around them.""

"How?""

I picked up the secure telephone.

"I call someone who answers directly to the Attorney General.""

Brooks watched me dial.

A man answered after three rings.

"Office of the Attorney General.""

"This is Judge Amara Whitlock, United States District Court for the Middle District of Georgia. I need an emergency connection to the Attorney General.""

There was a pause.

Then the operator spoke.

"Your Honor, may I ask what this concerns?""

"An active conspiracy involving federal officials, county law enforcement, judicial corruption, and an attempted assassination of federal personnel.""

The operator stopped breathing for a moment.

"Please hold.""

The line clicked.

Then a familiar voice answered.

"Amara?""

It was Chief Deputy Attorney General Richard Hale.

"Richard, I need your help.""

"What happened?""

I looked at Brooks.

Then at the document.

"Someone inside the federal system is protecting the people we've been investigating.""

"Who?""