“You’ll get one.”
“I am also requesting immediate preservation of Officer Maddox’s body camera, vehicle camera, dispatch records, and the booking-area video.”
The station became quieter.
Leonard stared.
People did not typically say preservation unless they understood investigations.
Colton scoffed.
“He’s trying to scare you.”
Nathaniel ignored him.
Leonard pushed the desk phone closer.
“Dial nine first.”
Nathaniel picked up the receiver.
He entered a number from memory.
The line rang once.
Then twice.
A voice answered.
“Whitaker.”
“Daniel.”
Silence.
Then the voice sharpened.
“Director?”
Colton stopped smiling.
Nathaniel turned slightly away.
“I’m on an unsecured precinct telephone.”
Daniel Whitaker, Deputy Director of the FBI, understood immediately.
“Are you safe?”
“At the moment.”
“What happened?”
“I was detained outside my residence by Bethesda patrol and transported to their precinct.”
Another silence.
“Are you injured?”
“Minor wrist abrasions.”
“Why were you detained?”
Nathaniel looked toward Colton.
“Apparently I did not resemble the person Officer Maddox believed should own my home.”
Leonard sat down slowly.
Colton looked at Raymond.
Raymond said nothing.
Daniel’s voice became colder.
“Do they know who they have?”
“They’re learning.”
Nathaniel paused.
“I want Washington Field Office counsel and our inspection personnel here.”
“Understood.”
“No theater.”
That mattered.
Daniel stopped.
Nathaniel continued.
“No tactical spectacle unless there is a genuine safety reason.”
“Understood.”
“Coordinate with DOJ Civil Rights and the county chief.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Daniel?”
“Yes?”
“Make sure the local station preserves everything before anyone has time to become creative.”
“I’ll handle it.”
Nathaniel returned the receiver.
Sergeant Leonard Burke looked at him.
“Mr. Brooks.”
Nathaniel said nothing.
Leonard turned his computer toward himself and opened the county property database.
He entered the address.
The owner appeared immediately.
NATHANIEL A. BROOKS
He ran the name through internal systems.
A restricted-access notification appeared.
Leonard’s breathing changed.
Then he opened an ordinary government biography page.
Nathaniel’s official portrait filled the screen.
Dark navy suit.
American flag behind him.
NATHANIEL BROOKS — DIRECTOR, FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION
Leonard stared at the monitor.
Then at the man standing three feet away.
Then at Colton.
“Jesus Christ.”
Colton stepped closer.
“What?”