The silence that followed was complete.
My father stared at Admiral Reid.
“That’s not possible.”
Reid remained where he stood.
“The access record is still preliminary. We haven’t reached any conclusions at this stage.”
My father turned his attention toward me.
I made sure my voice stayed calm.
“Who had access to that terminal?”
He swallowed.
“My staff.”
“How many people?”
“Several.”
“Who assembled the evidence packet used for this hearing?”
He hesitated.
Then he finally answered:
“Colonel Nathan Voss.”
Hearing that name hit me almost like a physical blow.
Nathan Voss.
My father’s chief intelligence adviser.
A man who had been present at my mother’s funeral.
A man who had known me since I was twenty-two years old.
A man who had once told me that loyalty to one’s family and loyalty to one’s country should never come into conflict.
I turned toward Reid.
“Where is Voss right now?”
He glanced at his phone.
Then frowned.
“He was supposed to attend this proceeding.”
I looked toward the rows of empty seats.
“He’s not here.”
Reid immediately placed another call.
For several seconds, he listened without saying anything.
Then his expression became hard.
“Director, Colonel Voss departed the building twenty minutes ago.”
My father stared at the admiral.
“Why?”
Reid lowered his phone.
“His authorization to depart was entered into the system before this hearing even started.”
I could feel the scattered pieces beginning to come together.
The intelligence that had been leaked.
The falsified electronic trail.
The accusation made in public.
My father’s uncontrollable temper.
And a trusted officer who had arranged to be somewhere else when the truth finally started emerging.
I glanced at my ripped uniform.
Then I looked directly at my father.
“General Mercer,” I said quietly, “there’s one question I need you to answer.”
He swallowed.
“What is it?”
“Did Colonel Voss tell you that I was responsible for the failure of the mission?”
My father’s expression changed.
He paused.
Then he whispered:
“Yes.”
I slowly closed my eyes.
There it was.
The first loose thread.
And somewhere outside the walls of the Pentagon, a man who had helped destroy five American lives was beginning to realize that the carefully constructed story he had created was finally coming apart.
