1

I call Rachel Thursday morning after dropping the kids at school. We've worked together for eight years—she tracks money flows for corporate clients, I handle the human element. Clean division of labor.

"I need a favor," I tell her.

"When don't you?" But her voice is cautious. "What kind of favor?"

"Financial. Government contracts, private payments, unusual activity."

Long pause. "This your new career focus?"

My new what? "How do you know about that?"

"People talk. You know there are no secrets in this town."

I pull into an empty parking lot, suddenly conscious of being on an open line. "Can we meet?"

"Maybe. What are you looking for specifically?"

"Satellite internet contracts. Rural broadband funding. Space launch agreements."

Another pause, longer this time. "That's a wide net."

"I know."

"And those contracts are... politically sensitive right now."

"I know that too."

"I'll see what I can find. Usual place, tomorrow noon."

She hangs up before I can respond.

Friday noon at the Smithsonian Metro station. Rachel emerges from the crowd carrying a single manila folder.

"This was harder to get than usual," she says, handing it over.

I open it. Financial summaries, contract values, payment schedules. But everything is redacted or incomplete.

"What am I looking at?"

"What's left after the interesting parts were classified or moved to different tracking systems."

I flip through pages of black bars and missing data. "This tells me nothing."

"Omission tells you something important." She lights a cigarette despite the no-smoking signs. "These contracts used to be public record. Now they're not."

I study the fragments. Billions in satellite contracts, but no vendor details. Rural broadband allocations with no geographic specifics. Government grants with no institutional recipients.

"Rachel, what is happening?"

"Budget cuts. Gutted departments. Data destruction." She takes a long drag.

"And the money flows?"

"Faster than ever. But harder to track."

A Metro train arrives, and half the people around us board it. Rachel watches them carefully.

"You should know," she says quietly, "I had to make some calls to get these scraps. Those calls got noticed."

"By whom?"

"People who don't usually notice my work." She drops the cigarette, grinds it under her heel. "Maybe take a break from this investigation."

"For how long?"

"Until whatever you're involved in resolves itself." She turns to leave, then stops. "And maybe vary your routes home. You know, just in case."

I watch her disappear into the crowd, leaving me with a folder full of blanks and the distinct feeling that my cluelessness might be the least of my problems.

2

I try Rachel's secure phone Saturday morning. Straight to voicemail. Her encrypted messaging app shows no activity since yesterday's meeting.

I call her office.

"Rachel Martinez, please."

"She's not in today," the receptionist says. "Can I take a message?"

"When will she be back?"

"I'm not sure. She called in sick this morning."

I hang up. Rachel has never called in sick in eight years.

Sunday. No response to texts, calls, encrypted messages. Her social media goes dark.

Monday morning, I drive to her apartment building. The lobby smells like cleaning products and old carpet. Mrs. Chen at the front desk waves like she always does.

"Haven't seen Rachel since Thursday," she says when I ask. "But that's not unusual. She travels for work."

I try the secure phone again. The number is disconnected.

Tuesday, I sit in my car outside her office building. Watch the entrance for an hour. Employees coming and going, normal business day. Rachel isn't among them.

I call her office again.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Martinez is no longer with the company."

"Since when?"

"I can't provide details about personnel matters."

The line goes dead.

I sit in my car, staring at the building where Rachel worked until four days ago. The folder of redacted documents sits on my passenger seat. The last thing she gave me before warning me to be careful.

Before disappearing completely.

Her voice echoes: "Maybe take a break from this investigation."

I should have listened.