The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as Sarah Chen adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses and stared at the computer screen. The offices of the Washington Herald were nearly empty at eleven-thirty on a Tuesday night, save for the skeleton crew of night editors and the occasional janitor pushing a cart down the carpeted hallways. Sarah preferred these quiet hours when she could focus without interruption, diving deep into the investigative pieces that had made her reputation as one of D.C.'s most tenacious political reporters.
Tonight was different. The email that had arrived three hours ago sat open in a separate window, its contents both thrilling and terrifying. The sender identified himself only as "Patriot47" and claimed to have evidence of a conspiracy that reached the highest levels of government. Sarah had received hundreds of similar tips over her eight-year career, most from attention-seeking cranks or disgruntled government employees with an axe to grind. But something about this message felt different.
The specificity of the details caught her attention first. Patriot47 didn't make broad, unsubstantiated claims about corruption or cover-ups. Instead, he provided precise dates, meeting locations, and financial figures that would be nearly impossible to fabricate convincingly. He mentioned classified budget allocations that Sarah knew existed but had never seen documented outside of congressional hearings. Most compelling of all, he referenced a series of private meetings between senior officials from different agencies—meetings that had no official record but aligned perfectly with policy changes Sarah had been tracking for months.