Page 47 of Shadow Burn

Katherine chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment. “That won’t be possible.”

Upton’s voice remained mild. “Is there a problem?”

Katherine heard the trap in the question. Not a large trap, dramatic one. A small, bureaucratic snare made of procedure and hierarchy. If she mentioned the attack, she gave him information he might not have. If she didn’t, she risked sounding evasive. She forced herself to breathe as though she were standing at a reading table in Langley, comparing two versions of a document and waiting for the contradiction to reveal itself.

“The materials aren’t ready for transfer,” she said. “I’ve completed a preliminary review of a dozen boxes, but the chain-of-custody log, redaction notes, and transfer inventory are incomplete. If the papers are being reassigned, I’ll need time to prepare them properly.”

“I’m sure someone with your attention to procedure can prepare the transfer quickly.”

There it was. A compliment with a hook inside it.

“I can,” she said. “Given the volume of material and the number of cross-references already flagged, I’ll need seventy-two hours.”

Jasper gave her a thumbs-up.

Upton coughed. “That’s longer than necessary.”

“With respect, sir, it’s necessary if you want the archive defensible. Pulling the papers mid-process without a full transfer memo creates a gap in custody and context. Whoever takes over in-house will be working from an incomplete record.”

Upton was quiet for a moment. She could almost see him weighing whether to press harder. “Forty-eight hours. I expect you and the materials at Langley in two days, no more.”

Forty-eight hours. It was less than she needed and more than she’d feared he would give. It was also proof that he wanted the papers badly enough to negotiate.

“I’ll prepare the transfer in forty-eight hours,” she said.

“That isn’t what I said.”

“No, sir,” she replied. “But it’s what I can responsibly confirm. Travel logistics will depend on secure transport for the materials.”

Another pause. The suspense made her skin crawl. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Your accommodations in Blackridge remain adequate?”

Katherine’s pulse hit hard. Jasper’s gaze narrowed. No one in the conference room moved other than to exchange a glance.

She looked at the phone as if it had become a living thing on the table. If Upton knew about the attack, the question was an exquisite cruelty. If he didn’t, it was routine enough to pass unnoticed by anyone who hadn’t spent the night in a stranger’s laundry room with blood on her face and a blanket around her shoulders.

“I’ve made appropriate arrangements,” she said.

“Good. I’d hate for anything to interfere with your work.”

The words were perfectly bland, yet she sensed menace under them. Was she being paranoid? Her fingers curled around the edge of the table, her bandaged palm protesting the pressure. “I don’t let accommodations interfere with my work, sir.”

“The Agency appreciates discretion in sensitive matters,” Upton said.

Her throat tightened. “As do I.”

“Forty-eight hours, Ms. Townsend.”

The call ended.

For a few seconds, no one spoke. The phone screen went dark, reflecting a dim, distorted version of her face.

CB broke the silence first. “I don’t like him.”

Mack looked at him. “You don’t even know him.”

Jasper’s attention remained on her. “You did good.”

She was so tense, the space between her shoulder blades hurt. “I bought as much time as I could.”