EDGAR HOOVER FBI BUILDING Two doors down the hallway from her office, Jessica walked into the windowless conference room. The table was large enough to accommodate more than twenty people, and it was packed. “Okay, everyone,” Jessica said as she moved to a seat in the middle of the table. “I apologize for being late. Let’s get moving.” “Where should we start?” asked a middle-aged man sitting directly across from her, Jessica’s chief of staff Tony Fogler. “Long Beach,” responded Jessica. “Then interdepartmental, closing with the explosive chain. We need to make it quick.” “Got it,” said Fogler. “I’ll start,” said T. J. Chatterjee. “We’re at level red across—” “No, start with ports,” interrupted Jessica. “Long Beach specifically.” “Yeah, good point,” said Chatterjee. “Oliver’s running that.” “Ports are shut down everywhere,” said Oliver Smith. “No boats out, no boats in. We’re scouring employee manifests—” “Long Beach?”
