Two hours later, the gravel driveway of the Croft Estate was swarming with black SUVs. The FBI had arrived.
The lead agent didn’t stop at the front door to speak with Alistair. He marched his team past the grand staircase, ignoring the Master Suite entirely, and headed straight for the East Wing–the guest quarters where William and Victoria had been forced to live.
“Warrant!” the agent barked, shoving a paper at William’s chest.
Victoria grabbed Leo, shielding him from the sight of armed agents tearing apart their temporary home. They ripped cushions off the sofas and pulled books from the shelves.
“Got it,” an agent called out from the bedroom.
He emerged holding a black, military-grade hard drive. It had been taped to the underside of the bedside table–the very table where William slept.
“William Croft,” the agent announced, bagging the evidence. “This drive contains the source code for the leak. You are a person of interest.”
William stared at the drive. He had never seen it before. The frame was clumsy, but effective.