I slapped my badge, issued weapon, and identification onto his desk. “I don’t think you understand.” I laughed at his expressed insolence. “I’m done. Consider this my resignation. I’ll sign whatever I need to sign, but you better make it quick. I’m walking out of here in five minutes.”

“Special Agent Rhoades,” he said, speaking to me as if I were a six-year-old child. “It’s not uncommon for a field agent to go through a wide range of emotion after an assignment such as this. You need to be debriefed, complete a psych-eval, take a polygraph…there’s a tremendous amount of unwinding that needs to take place. Each and every step is crucial in your recovery from this experience.”

He slid my badge and weapon across the desk, toward me. “Here.”

I shook my head. “I’m not kidding. I’m done.”

“Done?” He chuckled. “You’ve been through a lot. If anyone knows that, I—”

“Don’t patronize me,” I seethed. “All I need you to do is process the paperwork to let me go. I’m done. It’s over.”

“Intelligence Branch Agents are hard to come by, Agent Rhoades. You’re a tremendous asset to the Bureau. But. To think for one minute that you can simply walk out of here is a testament to the trauma that your mind has gone through in the last three years.” He cleared his throat and then gave me a condescending look. “Take two weeks to yourself. Enjoy the time off. Come see me when you’re feeling better.”

“Feeling better? I’ve never felt this good.” I stood. “I’m resigning. I thought bringing my issued weapon and badge into your office would be better than leaving it at the front desk.”

He stood and crossed his arms in a huff. “Agent Rhoades, I have no idea what’s going on. Based on your demeanor, I’ll respectfully request that you leave your field reports, the flash drive you mentioned when we spoke last, and your weapon.” He picked up my badge and attempted to hand it to me. “I’ll return your weapon after your psych-eval.”

I gestured toward the monitor on his desk and laughed. “Apparently you didn’t read my email.”

“Which email?”

“The email I sent you late last week.”

He reached for the mouse and shook it from side to side. His gaze shifted from me to the monitor. “I don’t recall seeing…”

“I sent you an email regarding the flash drive,” I said. “It was recovered by DNI investigators.”

His eyes shot from the monitor to me. “Recovered!? What?”

“It’s gone. There was another copy, but it was taken from me when I was kidnapped. It’s all detailed in the reports that I’m sure you haven’t read. It’s no longer my concern.” I looked at my watch. “Your five minutes is up.”

“Special Agent Rhoades!” he barked. “We need the Ortiz file to assist in negotiations with the border—”

“That flash drive is at DNI’s office in Washington, D.C.,” I said. “You might try giving them a call.”

I turned toward the door.

“You’re not walking out of here,” he snarled. “I’ll have you—”

I spun around. “Have me what? I hope you weren’t going to say something ridiculous like detained or arrested. Need I remind you, Sir, that this assignment, in its entirety, was contrary to the Federal Rules of Criminal Procedure? That any and all information obtained during the course of this assignment was done without probable cause, search warrants, or indictments? Expressing your concerns regarding my deficiencies to anyone—other than the two people in this office—would be a career-ending mistake on your part. I’d strongly suggest biting your respective lip and counting your losses.”

He gave me a quick once over. His eyes thinned to slits. “What in the fuck is wrong with you, Agent Rhoades?”

“For the first time in as long as I can remember, absolutely nothing is wrong with me.” I reached for the door handle. “Have a nice day, Sir.”