Page 5 of Shadow Burn

“To whom?”

She ran a finger along the spine of the notebook. “There’s no addressee. The letter is informal, most likely internal. I have eight handwriting samples to confirm authorship. The penmanship is consistent.”

“Eight samples.” He gave a bemused smile. “You are thorough. Content?”

“He references the cover name three times as an active assignment. The kind of language you use about a person, not their legacy.”

Jasper tapped his pen and stared at his notepad for a minute. “But Vance never sent it?”

“I assume it was a draft. He may have planned to give it to his secretary to type up. The real ringer, though? There’s another letter dated right after my flag that also references Cinder. Vance never finished that letter--the date on it is the same day he died.”

Jasper’s eyes lost their coolness. The same eyebrow rose again. “Are you suggesting a conspiracy?”

An ugly word. She pulled the black notebook toward her, opened it to the relevant pages, and turned it to face him. “There are nine years of nothing, and yet, Cinder is alive. I’m sure of it. And if so, he’s been operating in some capacity, and that capacity has to leave traces.”

The pen tapped the paper again. “Have you looked for any?”

“I can’t use Agency computers to do so without tripping unwanted attention, and I’m out of my element trying to find someone who doesn’t want to be found on my own. That’s why I need you.”

“Why do you care?”

“Excuse me?”

He shrugged. “Who cares if the CIA lied about a spy’s death and still has him on the payroll? Sounds par for the course.”

She blinked. “Why lie about it? And if it’s Top Secret, why not simply tell me hands off? It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been instructed not to pursue certain data concerning operatives and their missions. I have high clearance—I’ve co-authored six internal histories, three of which remain classified at the Top Secret level. Why bury me in Montana and mark the file closed?”

For the first time since they’d started talking, his focus dropped to his notepad and stayed there for a tense moment. She could see the wheels turning in his head, a crease forming between his brows.

She opened her other two notebooks and pointed to specific sections. “I have dozens of notes and cross references from Vance’s papers that may be part of this. I’m serious about my work, Mr. Perault, and I’m good at it, too. Something about this isn’t right, and I intend to figure out what it is.”

He scanned the sections she pointed to, then sat back and made notes. His handwriting was atrocious and seemed to be made up of symbols and code she couldn’t decipher. A man with his own cipher—how interesting.

She closed the books and stacked them beside her. “You understand that I can’t just log in to my Agency account and start digging into it, right? I’ll end up in a place far worse than this.”

Jasper folded his arms across his chest, giving her another of his looks.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with Montana,” she backtracked. “I meant⁠—”

“Tell me what you want from a consultant,” he interrupted.

Right. She needed to close the pitch and make it good. “I send you queries. You run them through whatever digital channels you can use that won’t alert the CIA. I don’t need to know your methods; I just need to know the results. We meet daily to compare findings. The work is yours, the analysis is mine, and final decisions about what to do with anything we find are also mine.”

“Final decisions are yours.”

“Yes.”

“Even if those decisions affect the safety of people who are helping you.”

“Meaning you?”

“Meaning me and SPS. If the CIA gets wind of us investigating a spy they don’t want exposed, we’re all in danger.”

She paused. “If you’re good at your job, they’ll never know. And since it’s my personal investigation, I’m paying for the consultation out of pocket. Therefore, I make the calls about what to do with the results.”

“You’re paying me to find things,” Jasper said. “You’re not paying me to give up my judgment about what we do with what we find.”

He was stubborn. “I’m paying you to find things and report them to me. The judgment piece is mine.”