Chapter 5 - The Washington Pings
The armored military SUV tore through the midnight streets of Washington, D.C., its lights flashing silently as it wove through the heavy traffic near the National Mall. In the back seat, I sat bathed in the cool, blue glow of a tactical terminal, my fingers flying across the encrypted keyboard as I analyzed the incoming data feeds from the Pentagon's cyber-defense division.
"The trace is stabilizing," I muttered, staring at the shifting digital map on the screen. "The corporate proxy routing the attacks isn't some random cyber-terrorist cell. It's registered under a shell corporation called Apex Logistics & Security."
In the front passenger seat, General Vance turned around, resting his arm against the headrest. "Apex? That’s the private security conglomerate owned by Julian Vance—no relation to me, unfortunately. They’ve been under federal investigation for illegal arms trafficking and corporate espionage for over two years."
"They aren't just trafficking arms," I said, pulling up a secondary encrypted file that had just decrypted from my squad leader's secure relay. "Look at this ledger. Operation Crimson Horizon wasn't just a rescue mission. The insurgents weren't guarding a random stash of weapons—they were guarding a server farm containing financial records of billions of dollars in illegal government kickbacks tied directly to Apex Logistics."
The General’s eyes widened slightly as he read the scrolling text. "My God... your team stumbled onto a multi-billion-peso corporate slush fund used to bribe defense officials."
"And my commanding officer buried the report to protect the contractors," I added, a cold fury rising in my chest. "Which means the people hunting my squad aren't just rogue mercenaries. They're corporate executives with direct access to federal intelligence feeds."
My terminal beeped sharply. A red warning banner flashed across the screen.
WARNING: PROXIMITY ALERT. LOCAL IP PING DETECTED WITHIN 500 METERS.
"General," I said, my voice dropping into a sharp, urgent whisper. "They know where our vehicle is."
Before the General could shout an order to the driver, a massive, unmarked black SUV slammed broadside into our vehicle at a high-speed intersection, sending our armored SUV spinning violently across four lanes of wet asphalt toward a concrete bridge abutment.
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The world dissolved into a cacophony of screeching metal, shattering glass, and blinding sparks.
As the vehicle came to a dead stop, hanging precariously over the edge of the embankment above the dark, churning waters of the river, the side door of our SUV was violently ripped open from the outside by a man in a tactical vest bearing the Apex Logistics insignia.
