Chapter 9 - The Collision
Commander Miller’s boots crunched loudly on the frozen asphalt as he walked down the embankment toward us, his dark trench coat flapping in the crisp mountain wind. He didn't look at Jason; his eyes were fixed entirely on me, holding the official federal document in his gloved hand.
"Major Reynolds," Miller said, nodding respectfully before turning his gaze to my stepbrother. "And you must be Mr. Robert Sterling Jr.'s favorite regional proxy. Jason Reynolds, I presume?"
Jason instinctively took another step back, pressing his spine against the frozen metal of his stranded sedan. He looked from Miller to me, his panic shifting into outright defiance. "I want my lawyer. You have no jurisdiction to detain me without corporate counsel present."
"NCIS has federal jurisdiction over any civilian contractor tampering with active military supply chains across multiple defense installations," Miller said calmly, pulling a pair of steel cuffs from his inner pocket. "And given that your firm's central server in Arlington was automatically flagged for remote data wiping thirty minutes ago, I'm taking you into custody under suspicion of destroying federal evidence."
"You can't do this!" Jason shouted, struggling as Miller stepped forward and secured his wrists with practiced efficiency. "My father is going to—"
"Your father is currently sitting in his study in Long Island watching his landline get disconnected by federal marshals," Miller interrupted without raising his voice. "The entire network is coming down, Mr. Reynolds. Every shell company, every forged signature, every falsified decommissioning certificate. The game is over."
As Miller led a protesting Jason back toward the federal transport vehicle, I stood in the middle of the snowy highway, the weight of the last twenty-four hours finally settling into my bones. The conflict that had felt so personal, so narrow—a daughter rejected by her father in favor of a golden son—had opened up to reveal an institutional rot that spanned a decade.
Alvarez walked up beside me, watching the tail lights of the NCIS vehicle disappear down the winding mountain road.
"Well, Major," she murmured softly. "That certainly beats pulling people out of a rolled bus."
"It’s not over yet, Sergeant," I said, pulling the master data drive from my pocket. "Jason was right about one thing. Dad helped build the scaffolding for this operation. Now we have to decide whether to let the Department of Defense sweep the fallout under the rug, or make sure every single person involved answers for it."
"And what do you think General Vance will say?" Alvarez asked.
Before I could answer, my phone buzzed in my coat pocket. It wasn't a text message from a local area code, and it wasn't a Long Island landline. It was a secure satellite priority ping from the Pentagon joint task force annex.
I swiped the screen.
May you like
*General Vance:* The Senate Armed Services Subcommittee just formally requested our presence in Washington for Thursday morning's hearing. Pack your uniform, Major. You're testifying.
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