Chapter 13: What the Director Signed

Eamon read the memo over my shoulder, and his face went flat.

"Where does he sleep?" he asked.

"Who?"

"The director. East wing, second floor. His light is on until one every night."

He shut the terminal down and put his hand under my elbow, because I hadn't moved.

"Come on, Maeve," he said. "You don't have to do this alone."

We crossed the frozen yard in our coats, and he knocked on the director's door with the side of his fist.

The director opened it in a gray cardigan, with his reading glasses pushed up on his forehead.

He looked at Eamon's face and then at mine, and he stepped back to let us in.

"I would rather you heard it from me than from a screen," he said.

"We heard it from the screen," I said.

"Then ask me what the screen didn't say."

His room held a narrow bed, a kettle, and boxes of paper stacked to the window.

He didn't offer us the chair.

"Did you sign it?" I asked.

"Yes."

He didn't look away when he said it, and that made me angrier than a lie would have.

"The Field Office came to me in September," he said. "They had a source inside a crime family, and the family was close to finding the leak."

"So they needed someone else to find," Eamon said.

"They needed the family looking in a different direction. They picked a young woman inside that house who was already applying to my program."

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