Chapter 7 - The Debriefing
The private conference room on the top floor of Sterling Tower looked less like a corporate boardroom and more like a tactical operations center. Holographic displays hovered over a massive mahogany table, projecting encrypted financial ledgers, satellite maps of the Middle East, and heavily redacted Department of Defense files.
Harrison stood at the head of the table, tapping a stylus against the glass surface. Miller and two other high-level Sterling operatives stood near the door, keeping watch.
"The federal raid on Vance Industries was just phase one," Harrison said, his voice dropping into command mode. He flicked a file across the holographic display toward me. "Your father was laundering money through shell corporations tied not just to domestic real estate, but to illegal arms trafficking in the Zagros sector—the exact sector where your bird went down three years ago."
I leaned forward, my eyes scanning the data streams. The coffee had worn off, replaced by the sharp, familiar adrenaline of a live mission. My ribs ached, but the fog in my mind had cleared entirely.
"That's not a coincidence," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "Arthur didn't just fake my death to steal my mother’s trust fund and clear the way for Chloe. He was selling intelligence coordinates to regional warlords to fund his corporate expansion."
"Bingo," Harrison said, clicking his stylus again. A new file appeared, bearing the seal of a black-ops contractor known as Apex Security. "Apex was the private military outfit handling logistics in Sector Four the day your unit was ambushed. They were supposed to provide air support. They pulled out twenty minutes before contact. Your father was on their board of directors under an encrypted alias."
A cold rage, clean and precise as a scalpel, bloomed in my chest. For three years, I had believed my unit's near-destruction was a tragic tactical failure of war. Instead, it was an assassination-for-profit orchestrated by the man who shared my blood.
"They tried to kill me twice," I whispered, the pieces clicking into place with terrifying clarity. "First in the mountains... and then by burying me in a shallow grave on paper so Chloe could wear a white dress."
"And they failed both times," Harrison said, walking around the table until he was standing right beside my chair. He placed a heavy, reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Which brings us to phase two. The Pentagon wants this buried. A scandal involving black-ops intelligence leaks and a high-profile corporate CEO selling out U.S. operatives to foreign insurgents is a PR nightmare for the brass. They’re planning to classify the entire investigation under National Security Directive 44."
I looked up at him, my eyes narrowing. "Which means my father gets quietly transferred to a luxury country-club federal prison, and the Apex contractors walk free with full immunity."
"Not on my watch," Harrison said, a sharp, predatory grin crossing his face. "Unless... we force their hand."
"How?"
Harrison tapped the holographic display, bringing up a live feed of the federal courthouse downtown. "By making the trial public. We bypass the DOD censors by leaking the raw financial ledgers and satellite comms directly to independent investigative journalists through secure Sterling channels. Once it's in the public domain, the DOJ can't sweep it under the rug."
"And the risk?" I asked.
"The risk is that every black-ops syndicate and corrupt politician involved is going to come looking for the source of the leak," Harrison replied without a trace of hesitation. He looked down at me, his gaze burning with absolute loyalty. "Which means you and I are going to be sitting ducks until we smoke out the people at the top."
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I stood up slowly, the lingering pain in my ribs fading into the background as the familiar, exhilarating weight of purpose settled back onto my shoulders. I reached down to the table, picking up a tactical comms-link Miller had set out for me, and clipped it securely to my collar.
"Then let's set the trap," I said.
