Marcus Anderson produced a small USB drive from his pocket with the careful precision of a man holding a live grenade. The entire cellar focused on that tiny piece of technology, understanding that it represented either salvation or destruction depending on whose secrets it contained.
Colonel Mitchell's hand moved toward her sidearm before she stopped herself. Killing Marcus now would mean never knowing what information he possessed or where additional copies might be hidden.
"Colonel, this drive contains documentation of every illegal operation I facilitated over the past twelve years," Marcus said calmly. "Names, dates, locations, financial transfers. Everything your superiors have spent careers keeping classified. If anything happens to me, copies get automatically released to WikiLea
