The red rotary phone on Grayson Knight’s heavy oak desk began to ring.
It wasn't the standard external line. It was the direct, encrypted forward from the San Jose decoy office.
Toby Miller stopped typing and looked across the command center. "Jessica is supposed to take messages. Why is she routing a call directly to the warehouse?"
"Because someone refused to leave a message," Quinn Harper said, setting her clipboard down.
Grayson picked up the heavy receiver. "Command."
"Mr. Knight," Jessica’s voice came through, sounding slightly rattled but maintaining her professional tone. "I am sorry to bypass the protocol, but I have a caller on line one. He refused to give his company name, but he specifically asked for you. He said it concerns a recent transaction regarding regional radio a
