Chapter 8 - The Revocation Notice
The crisp, official-looking document slid to a halt right in front of Simone.
She looked down at it. Stamped across the top in bold red ink was an official Department of Transportation termination order, complete with an electronic signature bearing the seal of the Inspector-General's internal affairs division.
For a fraction of a second, the room seemed to tilt. The carefully constructed life she had built—her career, her authority, her tireless pursuit of justice within the system—was being dismantled with a single stroke of a corrupted pen.
Henderson and the other two vice presidents let out collective breaths of relief, their nervous tension melting away into smug, arrogant grins.
"There it is, Inspector," Henderson sneered, leaning back in his chair. "Your federal badge is dead weight. You have no jurisdiction here, no authority to review our books, and no legal protection against a massive civil defamation and trespassing lawsuit from this corporation. Security will escort you out."
Simone didn't move. She stared at the revocation notice, her chest rising and falling in slow, controlled rhythms.
Agent Miller shifted uncomfortably near the door, his hand tightening on his holster. "Ma'am... if your credentials have been formally revoked, we need to step back. We can't legally enforce compliance without an active warrant."
Vance smiled, walking slowly around the corner of the mahogany table until he stood just a few feet away from Simone. He looked down at her with an expression of patronizing pity.
"Be smart, Simone," Vance murmured softly, close enough that only she could hear. "Take your things, walk out that front door, and keep your mouth shut. The board is willing to offer a generous consulting severance package to ensure your silence. If you fight this, you won't just lose your job—you'll find yourself facing federal wire fraud charges for falsifying the very transport logs you downloaded this morning."
Simone looked up into Vance's eyes. The grief and shock of his betrayal vanished, replaced by an absolute, terrifying calm.
"You really think it's that easy, don't you, Thomas?" she whispered.
Vance's smile faltered slightly. "Excuse me?"
"You assumed," Simone said, her voice rising just enough to echo off the boardroom walls, "that because you control the internal affairs database, you control every node in the federal network. But you forgot rule one of transit compliance auditing."
Vance’s expression hardened. "What are you talking about?"
"I don't rely on internal servers," Simone said clearly. She reached into her blazer pocket, pulled out a small, encrypted thumb drive, and held it up between two fingers. "Every file, every offshore transfer record, every text message between you and these corporate executives was mirrored to an automated congressional subcommittee server in Washington D.C. the moment I swiped my badge at O'Hare this morning."
The color drained entirely from Thomas Vance's face. The smug, untouchable aura vanished, replaced by the stark terror of a man who realized he had just walked into a federal trap of his own making.
Before Vance could lunge forward to grab the drive, the boardroom's heavy glass double doors swung open again with a loud, echoing bang.
May you like
Four armed federal marshals in full tactical gear—led by the director of the congressional oversight committee himself—marched into the room, their badges gleaming under the boardroom lights.
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