Chapter 7 - The Interception

Inside the mobile command center parked two blocks away, Agent Vance and I watched the data packet hit the foreign server. The trap had snapped shut with bone-crushing finality.
"Data transfer confirmed. Destination IP matches the broker in Cyprus," the tech analyst announced. "We have the digital fingerprint linking his laptop directly to the espionage charge."
I stood up, adjusting the cuffs of my dress whites. "Let's go."
I rode in the lead SUV with Vance. The anger that had been simmering in my blood since I woke up with my hair hacked off had crystallized into something cold, hard, and utterly ruthless. They had tried to take my dignity, my career, my sanity, and my life. Now, I was taking everything.
The convoy of armored vehicles swarmed the driveway. Men and women in heavy tactical gear, emblazoned with the bold yellow letters of NCIS, poured out onto the lawn.
"Breach it," Vance ordered.
The front door, the heavy oak door I had picked out and paid for, exploded inward under the force of a battering ram. The noise was deafening, a violent rupture of the quiet suburban night. Flashlights cut through the darkness of the unlit house, laser sights sweeping the hallways.
"FEDERAL AGENTS! PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!"
I walked in behind the tactical team, the crunch of splintered wood under my polished shoes the only sound I focused on.
David was dragged out of the bedroom, his face pale with absolute terror, his arms wrenched behind his back. Barbara was screaming hysterically as an agent zip-tied her wrists, shoving her onto the living room sofa.
"This is a mistake!" David wailed, struggling against the agents. "I'm a civilian! My wife is crazy, she set me up!"
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I stepped out of the shadows, the beam of a tactical flashlight catching the silver eagles on my collar and my smooth, shaved head.
David froze. The breath left his lungs in a sharp hiss.