Turner frowned. "Who?"
"Deputy Inspector General Maya Williams."
"No."
"Did her son?"
"No."
"Did you give Isaiah Williams the device?"
Turner leaned back. "I don't know Isaiah Williams."
Paul continued, "Then how did the drive end up in his possession?"
Turner looked toward his attorney again. This time, Bell answered, "Tell him what happened."
Turner exhaled. "I was supposed to meet someone near the university."
"Who?"
"A journalist." Bell interrupted: "We're not identifying that person today without additional protections."
Paul accepted the limit. "Continue."
"I chose a coffee shop near campus because it was crowded: shared tables, students everywhere. I had the drive with me."
"What went wrong?"
"I saw a man outside I recognized from a city contractor meeting. I couldn't prove he was following me, but I wasn't taking the chance."
"So, you left quickly."
Turner rubbed one hand across his jaw. "I packed my laptop and walked out through the side entrance. I didn't realize the USB wasn't with me until later."
"You left it on the table."
"Apparently."
Paul thought about Isaiah's statement: a crowded university study area, a black drive beside his laptop, a hurried student packing his belongings. An accident—nothing more.
"When did you realize it was gone?"
"About twenty minutes later."
"Did you go back?"
"Yes. It wasn't there."
"Did you report it?"
Turner laughed once without humor. "To who? The same people whose records were on it?"
The room became quiet. Paul understood immediately why that answer mattered: Turner had not planted the USB on Isaiah; Maya had not arranged an operation; Isaiah had simply picked up an object left behind by a frightened man trying to get evidence outside a system he no longer trusted.
The strongest part of Harland's conspiracy argument had just lost its foundation.