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Page 148
he thought. But it was bad enough. "Okay. On one condition."
"Condition?"
"Two, actually. Pass my report on to the President. I will get it to you by this evening at the latest."
"I would have to give it a provenance."
"Say it's yours. Or say some think tank did it. Anything. Only see to it that he reads it. If he accepts any part of it, we can talk again. With Gray sitting in. And one thing more. I want to send the ferrets in here to have a look around."
"The first, I agree to reluctantly; the second is not necessary."
Fisk sighed. "Think it over, at least."
Vincent Kellner rarely showed more than displeasure, but for once, Charlton Fisk saw real anger in his face. "You are insinuating that I have a traitor in my office, and I deny that absolutely. I have a small staff that I selected with great care before they came to work for me. I have had no occasion to doubt their loyalty, either to me or to their government. I do not wish to speak of this again unless and until you have hard evidence to show me."
Fisk stood up and nodded curtly. "I'll have the report delivered before the end of business, today."
"Yes," Kellner said. "Do that."
As Fisk walked toward the door, a special FBI courier arrived in the outer office with a double-sealed message for him. Camilla Varig removed the old-fashioned dictagraph headset she liked to use and buzzed Kellner. "Sir, there's a messenger here for Director Fisk."
"Send him in."
The special agent delivered the envelope to Fisk. "By hand of Agent, sir."
Fisk signed off, read the brief message inside, then handed it to Kellner as though it were going to burst into flames. "Your man, Vincent," he said.

 
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