Martha stood by the hall table, endlessly stirring her cold tea with a silver spoon that clicked against the rim.

“The Department of Defense doesn’t issue federal warrants over a licensing mistake,” I said.

“He’s got three hundred eighty thousand dollars in contract obligations,” Harper said, leaning forward.

“They’re freezing his accounts.

They’re towing his car as we speak.”

“That money belongs to the federal government,” I said, standing by the entry table with my arms folded across my waist.

“It was drawn against fake supply requisitions David audited six months ago.”