Chapter 2 - The Doors Were Sealed
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For one long second, nobody moved.
Secretary Pendelton’s order seemed to hang over the tribunal like smoke after an explosion.
General Vance stared down from the raised panel, and the confidence that had defined him only moments earlier disappeared behind a tightening jaw.
Then every security officer in the chamber reached for a weapon.
Not toward me.
Toward the generals.
The sudden scraping of chairs exploded through the room.
Major General Curtis Hale shot to his feet.
“This is outrageous,” he barked.
Pendelton did not even look at him.
“Sit down.”
Hale remained standing.
Pendelton’s voice hardened.
“That was not a suggestion.”
Two military police officers immediately moved behind Hale.
Across the panel, Brigadier General Nolan Greaves slowly raised both hands.
Vance did neither.
Instead, he stared directly at me.
It was not fear in his eyes.
Not yet.
It was calculation.
That frightened me more.
Secretary Pendelton leaned closer to my burned glove.
“How long ago did you carve this code?”
“Thirty-one hours, sir.”
His eyes lifted sharply.
“You carried the message personally?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why was no encrypted transmission sent?”
“Because every operational channel had been compromised.”
The room became quieter.
Pendelton’s fingers tightened around the silver handle of his cane.
“By whom?”
My gaze drifted toward Vance.
Nobody breathed.
“General Vance controlled the extraction network.”
A murmur spread through the gallery.
Vance finally stood.
“This woman is injured, traumatized, and clearly unstable.”
I looked at him.
He had used the same voice in the mountains when he ordered Marcus abandoned.
Calm.
Reasonable.
Almost fatherly.
That was how men like Thomas Vance survived.
They wrapped cruelty in professionalism.
Vance pointed toward me.
“She destroyed classified intelligence.”
“I destroyed it after enemy forces entered our black site using American authentication codes.”
That silenced him for half a heartbeat.
Pendelton turned toward me.
“Explain.”
My burned hand trembled against the table.
I hated that it trembled.
“I was assigned to Operation Snow Lantern.”
Several officers in the gallery exchanged looks.
Most had never heard the name.
They were not supposed to.
“Our objective was to retrieve a captured intelligence analyst from Facility Seven, an abandoned weather station being used as a covert detention site.”
Pendelton nodded once.
“I know the operation.”
Vance’s face changed.
Barely.
But I saw it.
So did Pendelton.
I continued.
“Three hours before extraction, our perimeter sensors went dead.”
I could see the mountains again as I spoke.
Snow whipping across black rock.
Buster growling into the wind.
Marcus touching two fingers to his headset.
Then gunfire.
“Enemy fighters approached through a route known only to command.”
Pendelton’s expression darkened.
“They bypassed all defensive positions?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How?”
“They had our challenge codes.”
Someone in the gallery whispered a curse.
I swallowed.
“Our intelligence officer, Lieutenant Dana Park, discovered outbound transmissions from a command terminal linked to General Vance’s secure authorization.”
Vance slammed his hand against the panel.
“That is a lie.”
Pendelton turned his head.
“General, another interruption and I will have you removed in restraints.”
Vance slowly lowered himself back into his seat.
I continued.
“Lieutenant Park tried to send the evidence to Washington.”
My voice caught.
“She died three minutes later.”
Pendelton’s eyes narrowed.
“How?”
“She was shot from behind.”
The room seemed to contract around me.
“By whom?”
I looked at Vance.
“Colonel Mercer.”
Colonel Adrian Mercer sat two seats from Vance.
His face went white.
Four MPs moved toward him.
Mercer pushed backward suddenly.
His chair crashed over.
He reached beneath his dress jacket.
Everything happened at once.
A security officer shouted.
Someone screamed.
Mercer pulled a compact pistol from beneath his uniform.
He did not aim at Pendelton.
He aimed at me.
My body moved before my mind did.
I dropped sideways.
The first gunshot shattered the microphone on the tribunal table.
The second struck the wood inches from my damaged hand.
MPs tackled Mercer to the floor.
His pistol skidded across the polished marble.
Chaos erupted.
I hit the ground hard.
Pain ripped through my wounded thigh.
For several seconds, all I could hear was ringing.
Then someone knelt beside me.
Pendelton.
The Secretary of Defense had somehow crossed the room despite his cane.
“Captain Jenkins.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are bleeding.”
I looked down.
The bandage around my thigh had opened.
A dark stain spread through my uniform.
Pendelton glanced toward Mercer, who was being dragged upright in handcuffs.
Then he turned toward Vance.
Every trace of age seemed to disappear from his face.
“You called her unstable.”
Vance said nothing.
Pendelton pointed toward the bullet hole in the tribunal table.
“An innocent officer does not attempt to assassinate a witness inside a sealed military hearing.”
Vance’s voice remained quiet.
“You’re making assumptions.”
“No.”
Pendelton rose carefully.
“I am recognizing a pattern.”
He turned toward the security commander.
“Confiscate every communication device in this chamber.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Freeze General Vance’s command access.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Lock down the Pentagon’s Special Operations communications archive.”
Vance finally reacted.
“You cannot do that.”
Pendelton looked at him.
“I just did.”
Two MPs approached Vance.
For the first time, I saw fear.
Real fear.
But before they reached him, every light in the tribunal chamber went dark.
The emergency system failed with them.
Absolute darkness swallowed the room.
Someone shouted.
A body struck the floor.
Then came a sound I recognized immediately.
A suppressed gunshot.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
I crawled beneath the tribunal table, ignoring the fire in my leg.
Somewhere near the judges’ panel, glass shattered.
Emergency lights flickered red.
I lifted my head.
General Vance’s chair was empty.
So was Secretary Pendelton’s.
And lying beside the dais was one of the military police officers.
Dead.
His throat had been cut.
On the marble beside him, written in blood, were three characters.
K-9.
My stomach turned cold.
The mountains had followed me home.
May you like
And whoever had betrayed us was not trapped inside the tribunal.
They were still hunting.
