Chapter 4 - The Missing Minute
The gala ended under a security lockdown.
Guests were interviewed.
Videos copied.
Departure times recorded.
Nobody was arrested on the beach that night.
That disappointed Chloe.
She apparently expected the Admiral’s arrival to become some dramatic military raid.
Reality was paperwork and waiting.
I preferred that.
Paper had destroyed me once.
Maybe paper could rebuild the truth.
McAllister moved the core interviews into a secure conference room at Naval Base Coronado.
I went because I wanted answers.
Richard went because he was ordered.
Chloe tried to follow.
I stopped her.
“No.”
Her face tightened.
“I’m family.”
“So was I.”
That ended it.
She remained outside.
Inside, a forensic communications specialist named Commander Alana Pierce projected the Black Harbor logs.
“Most of the original data was archived under restricted retention.”
“Restricted by whom?” I asked.
“Rear Admiral Malcolm Vale’s office.”
Richard closed his eyes.
Vale had been his mentor.
His sponsor.
The officer who wrote the recommendation that helped Richard make captain.
Pierce continued.
“At 02:17 Harper’s distress message arrived.”
Waveform.
Static.
My own voice.
I hated hearing it.
Younger.
Bleeding.
Breathing too fast.
TEAM COMPROMISED.
Then a burst of noise.
INTERNAL LEAK.
Then:
DO NOT TRUST ATLAS.
I froze.
“That wasn’t in the transcript.”
Pierce nodded.
“Audio restoration recovered it yesterday.”
“Atlas?”
McAllister asked.
I remembered.
A call sign.
Not ours.
During the ambush, someone had transmitted on an unauthorized channel.
Male voice.
American.
Calm.
I had heard one phrase through gunfire:
Atlas, package moving north.
I had assumed militia liaison.
Now?
Maybe not.
Richard stared at the waveform.
“Play the next minute.”
Pierce did.
Nothing.
Blank.
Exactly sixty three seconds missing.
Then Richard’s credentials appeared.
PRIOR STERLING TRANSMISSION UNRELIABLE.
He shook his head.
“I did not send it.”
Pierce asked:
“Who had access to your token?”
“No one.”
“Physical token?”
“On me.”
“Entire time?”
Richard stopped.
The room changed.
“Captain?”
He looked at the table.
“I left it at the secure console when Vale called me into his office.”
“For how long?”
“Maybe six minutes.”
“Who remained?”
Richard thought.
“Cross.”
“Anyone else?”
“Douglas Kane.”
McAllister’s chief of staff.
I looked toward the Admiral.
His expression remained controlled.
But a small muscle moved in his jaw.
“Cross and Kane had access to the room?”
“Cross definitely. Kane was carrying traffic summaries.”
Pierce made notes.
Then the door opened.
Kane himself walked in.
“Admiral, update on Cross.”
Every eye went to him.
He noticed.
“What?”
McAllister said:
“Close the door.”
Kane did.
He had been with McAllister for six years.
Trusted.
Decorated.
Calm.
“Cross’s vehicle was found near Shelter Island,” he said. “Empty.”
Pierce asked:
“Any cameras?”
“Working.”
“Good.”
Kane looked at Richard.
“Captain, you all right?”
Richard did not answer.
McAllister asked:
“Douglas, do you remember Black Harbor?”
Kane’s expression barely changed.
“Yes, sir.”
“What was your role?”
“Communications support.”
“Were you in the operations room when Sterling’s distress traffic arrived?”
A pause.
“I don’t remember.”
Pierce looked at him.
“That night produced an international incident and four presumed deaths.”
“It was five years ago.”
“Do you remember being in the room?”
“I remember coming and going.”
McAllister leaned back.
“You were twenty seven. First major special operations assignment.”
Kane smiled weakly.
“I remember being terrified.”
Reasonable.
Then I asked:
“Do you remember Atlas?”
That changed him.
Not much.
Enough.
His eyes moved to me.
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Too fast.
Pierce saw it too.
Before anyone could push further, Kane’s phone vibrated.
He glanced down.
Then immediately turned it face down.
McAllister said:
“Give me your phone.”
Kane blinked.
“Sir?”
“Now.”
He hesitated.
Then handed it over.
McAllister passed it to security.
Kane’s face remained calm.
Richard looked at me.
For the first time in five years, I saw something close to fear for me rather than fear of me.
Then Pierce enlarged another line from the log.
At 02:23, one second before Richard’s credentials were used, the system registered a local maintenance override.
User initials:
May you like
DK.
Douglas Kane.
