Chapter 3 - The Shell Game
The interior of the base security office smelled of cold linoleum, stale black coffee, and the faint, persistent tang of salt air drifting through the HVAC vents. Delphine sat across the scarred metal interrogation table, her arms tightly crossed over her chest, staring stubbornly at the water-stained acoustic tiles of the ceiling.
I stood behind the one-way glass in the adjoining observation room, watching the steady, nervous twitch of her left foot against the floor leg. Beside me, Agent Vance scrolled through the financial ledgers extracted from the catering van’s laptop, while Master Chief Kettleman reviewed the harbor patrol’s dive logs.
"She's taking the fall for someone higher up," Kettleman observed quietly, leaning his forearms against the console. "Nobody in a local catering syndicate has the clearance to access naval inspection timelines unless someone inside the harbor master’s office is leaking the manifests."
"And that someone is likely connected to this 'Bram' character," I added, tapping my fingers against the glass. "Delphine has always been easily manipulated by men with expensive suits and loud opinions. If someone convinced her that I was personally targeting her livelihood, she would march right onto a secured pier and throw my briefcase into the Elizabeth River without a second thought."
"It's worse than that, Commander," Vance said, spinning the laptop monitor around so we could both see an expanded transaction tree. "Look at this deposit originating from the shell corporation. It wasn't just funding the catering contract. It was a direct wire transfer sent thirty minutes before you arrived at Pier 12, labeled: Interference Retainer - Phase One."
My stomach tightened. Phase One. That meant my arrival on the pier wasn't an accidental encounter at all. I had been lured there—or rather, my inspection schedule had been weaponized to draw me into a public confrontation, creating a deliberate distraction while something much larger played out on the other side of the naval base.
"Where is Pier 14 relative to Pier 12?" I asked sharply, turning to Kettleman.
The Master Chief’s eyes widened. "Two slips down. That's where the USS Constitution support tender is currently docked for cargo offloading."
"And what cargo is on that tender?"
"Classified naval avionics routing chips bound for the 5th Fleet tactical command," Kettleman said, his face instantly pale. "Commander... the manifests for those chips were updated in the database this morning using your digital security key."
"They didn't just want to humiliate me in front of my sister," I realized, the cold reality washing over me like ice water. "They used Delphine as a human smoke grenade to steal my security credentials while my bag was sitting on that crate."
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I didn't wait another second. I spun away from the observation window, grabbed my heavy work bag from the counter, and bolted out the door toward the holding cells.
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