Chapter 2 - Shadows in the Catering Van
Delphine flinched as if I had struck her, her fingers instantly releasing my sleeve as she took a stumbling step backward. The panic in her eyes flickered for a fraction of a second, replaced by a sudden, protective wariness that told me more than her words ever could.
"Nobody," she muttered, refusing to look me in the eye as she stared down at the wet gravel. "Just... some guy I'm seeing. It doesn't matter."
"It matters a great deal," Special Agent Vance interjected smoothly, stepping around the stack of equipment crates to stand directly beside me. He flipped his badge open just enough for Delphine to see the federal insignia. "When a civilian contractor receives precise, advance notice of a classified naval waterfront inspection schedule and coordinates an intentional confrontation on a secured pier, it stops being a domestic dispute and starts becoming a national security breach."
"National security?" Delphine let out a hysterical, breathless laugh, her voice cracking. "Are you out of your mind? It’s a catering gig! We're supplying finger sandwiches and coffee for a routine retirement ceremony at the Officer’s Club! I don't know anything about naval secrets!"
"Then explain how your boyfriend—this 'Bram' character—knew my exact inspection route three days before my orders were even docketed at the Pentagon," I said, stepping closer.
Before Delphine could formulate a lie, Master Chief Kettleman walked over from the edge of the pier, holding a wet, dripping black leather pouch by its reinforced strap. The Navy divers had moved fast. My federal inspection binder and secure tablet were safe, though water was already dripping from the encrypted casing.
"Recovered, Commander," Kettleman reported, handing the bag over with a crisp nod. "Tablet is sealed and waterproofed. Binder integrity is intact, though the outer leather took a beating."
"Thank you, Master Chief," I said, securing the bag under my arm. I turned my attention back to Delphine’s catering van, which was parked haphazardly fifty feet away, its side door still swung wide open. Inside, a laptop sat glowing on a folding prep table, surrounded by open invoice binders and catering manifests.
"Agent Vance," I nodded toward the van. "Let's take a look at who's paying for Miss Delphine's catering contracts."
"Wait! You can't search my van without a warrant!" Delphine shrieked, lunging forward, but one of the military police officers gently but firmly blocked her path, guiding her hands behind her back to secure her against the patrol car.
"On a secured federal installation, the base commander holds blanket administrative jurisdiction over all commercial vehicles," Agent Vance replied without breaking stride. He walked straight up to the open side door of the van, pulled a pair of sterile latex gloves from his pocket, and reached inside for the glowing laptop.
The screen flickered as Vance tapped the trackpad. A deep frown instantly cut across his weathered face.
May you like
"Well, Commander," Vance murmured, looking up from the screen with a grim expression. "It looks like your sister isn't just catering retirement parties. Her company’s primary logistics account is being funded by an offshore shell corporation tied directly to maritime freight contractors currently under federal investigation for security kickbacks."
---
