ODNI, McLean, Virginia
T
he Director of National Intelligence paced behind his desk, running the options in his mind. What he’d just heard from the man who calls himself Bayer was disturbing. Goddamn PowerPoint Rangers up and down the chain were ruining a prime opportunity. The few people in the White House and on Capitol Hill who were read in on the anti-piracy operation would be wanting updates before long. And—assuming he told them the truth—it looked like what began as a golden opportunity was rapidly turning into a basket of s**t. There were only so many bureaucracies he could bypass, only so many hurdles he could bull through, only so long he could keep a thing like this off the official radar.
“I don’t like the way this is going…”
The man who calls himself Bayer squirmed in his
