Chapter 8 - The Chain of Command
The cold steel barrels of the assault rifles gleamed under the flickering emergency strobe lights.
Olivia froze, her finger resting lightly against the trigger guard of her sidearm. The training she had received in basic combat drilled a single reflexive response into her mind, but her heart refused to execute it.
"Colonel," Olivia said, her voice dropping into a dangerous, razor-thin register as she kept her eyes locked on Brooks. "Explain your men."
Colonel Brooks didn't flinch. He let out a long, heavy sigh, looking older and more fatigued than he had back in the mess hall hours earlier.
"Put the weapon down, Olivia," Brooks commanded softly. "You've done enough damage for one day."
"Damage?" Olivia’s voice rose, a sharp edge of disbelief cutting through her tone. "I uncovered a multi-million-dollar military supply laundering ring operating out of this base! Master Sergeant Hayes is currently trying to hunt me down in the motor pool, and you're standing here holding the door for the people running the operation?"
"Hayes is a blunt instrument," Brooks replied, stepping slowly toward her, his hands empty and raised in a placating gesture. "He doesn't understand the broader picture. Neither do you, Private."
"Try me, sir," Olivia challenged, her grip tightening on her pistol grip. "Tell me how stealing tactical communication arrays and writing them off as combat losses protects the division."
"It doesn't protect the division," a cold, smooth voice echoed from behind the reinforced server room door.
The heavy steel door swung inward, and a man in a crisp civilian tailored suit stepped out into the corridor. He wore no rank insignia, but his silver hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and immaculate posture were unmistakable.
Major General Thomas Vance.
The man who had supposedly been arrested in Chicago just hours earlier by federal marshals in Simone Sterling's sting operation.
"General Vance?" Olivia stared at him, her mind racing. "How are you here? The IG task force in Chicago—"
"The IG task force in Chicago was investigating a regional airline subsidiary, Private," Vance said with a patronizing, grandfatherly smile that didn't reach his cold, dead eyes. "They had zero jurisdiction over Department of Defense logistics procurement. My arrest was... an administrative inconvenience easily resolved by a phone call from the Pentagon."
Olivia looked from Vance to Colonel Brooks, the terrifying, agonizing puzzle finally snapping together.
"You're not just protecting Mercer," Olivia whispered, the horror dawning on her. "You two are the ones running the syndicate. The ghost shipments weren't going to private contractors—they were being funneled through civilian shell companies tied to the airline board."
Vance didn't bother denying it. He simply smiled, walking closer as the two MPs kept their rifles locked on her chest.
"You're remarkably bright, Private Bennett," Vance said smoothly. "Which is precisely why your father should have kept you out of the military entirely. General Bennett always was a stubborn idealist, believing the system could be reformed from within. But some systems are too big, too complex, and far too valuable to be dismantled by a junior private asking questions about missing inventory."
"Where is Inspector Miller?" Olivia demanded, her eyes darting between Vance and the armed guards.
"Inspector Miller is currently detained in a secure debriefing room three floors down," Vance replied smoothly. "And you, Private, are about to join her. Unless, of course, you hand over the encrypted thumb drive you downloaded from Mercer's locker."
Olivia's hand instinctively shifted closer to her tactical pouch, where the small black drive rested against her ribs.
Vance’s smile vanished, replaced by a cold, predatory stare.
"Take her weapon," Vance ordered the MPs.
May you like
Before the guards could take a step forward, a deafening explosion ripped through the ceiling above the corridor, showering the hallway in concrete dust and plunging the sub-level into absolute darkness.
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