Chapter 6 - The Mission That Nearly Ended My CareerKandahar was the reason I learned never to trust a clean answer.
At first.
“No.”
She stood inside a secure conference room at Peterson Space Force Base with both palms pressed against the table.
“No. Absolutely not.”
Mom sat beside her.
Dad stared through the darkened window.
General Hale remained near the door.
I stood opposite my sister.
“He gave you the phone,” I said.
“So?”
“The router in Dad’s study was modified.”
“That doesn’t mean Greg did it.”
“He installed it.”
“He’s good with technology.”
“Exactly.”
She flinched.
I hated myself for saying it that way.
“You’re trying to make him guilty.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“He loves me.”
I looked at her.
“I hope he does.”
That answer caught her off guard.
Because part of me meant it.
A man could love someone and still betray them.
People liked villains simple.
Life rarely cooperated.
General Hale placed a file on the table.
“We conducted an emergency financial review.”
Tiffany looked at him.
“Of Greg?”
“Yes.”
“You had no right.”
“We had considerable right after armed men entered your parents’ home.”
She sank into the chair.
Hale continued.
“Mr. Palmer has received approximately $640,000 over three years through consulting entities linked to foreign intermediaries.”
Mom gasped.
Tiffany shook her head.
“He makes good money.”
“Not that good.”
I watched her face as disbelief became arithmetic.
The vacations.
The watches.
The first-class flights.
The lake house he claimed belonged to a client.
Pieces beginning to move.
Dad finally spoke.
“He asked about Evelyn.”
I turned.
“What?”
He looked ashamed.
“A few times.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing important.”
“Dad.”
“He asked where you were stationed.”
My pulse accelerated.
“And?”
“I said I didn’t know.”
“What else?”
“He asked whether you ever sent packages. Whether you called from foreign numbers.”
Tiffany stared at him.
“You never told me that.”
“I thought he was making conversation.”
I asked, “Did you answer?”
Dad hesitated.
“Sometimes.”
General Hale’s expression remained controlled.
Mine did not.
“What did you tell him?”
“Whatever I knew.”
“That was exactly what he needed.”
Dad’s face hardened.
“Don’t speak to me like I’m stupid.”
“I’m not.”
“You sound like it.”
“I sound scared.”
That stopped him.
I had almost never admitted fear to my father.
He knew what to do with anger.
He had no defense against vulnerability.
“I’m scared,” I repeated. “Because somebody built a profile of this family using scraps that looked meaningless.”
Dad sat down.
“I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
Tiffany started crying silently.
“I gave him everything.”
Her voice broke.
“Photos. Family birthdays. Your old yearbook pictures. Grandma’s address. I told him where you went to college.”
I moved around the table and sat beside her.
She pulled away.
“I helped him.”
“You didn’t know.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because you didn’t.”
“But I hated you. I complained about you constantly.”
I almost smiled.
“That part I believe.”
She laughed once through tears.
Then covered her face.
General Hale quietly left the room.
I let Tiffany cry.
After several minutes, she whispered, “What happens now?”
“We find Greg.”
“And if he’s guilty?”
“We prove it.”
“And then?”
“Then he answers for it.”
She looked at me.
“You make that sound easy.”
“It won’t be.”
A secure tablet on the table chimed.
Hale returned.
“We have him.”
Tiffany stood.
“Where?”
“Not Dallas.”
Of course not.
“Where?” I asked.
“Colorado Springs.”
My heartbeat changed.
“How close?”
“Less than six miles.”
Tiffany stared.
“He told me he flew out yesterday.”
“He didn’t.”
“Why is he here?”
Nobody answered.
Because we all knew.
He was here for me.
The sealed packet Voss had left was brought in an hour later.
A black case.
No markings.
Biometric lock.
I placed my thumb against the reader.
Green light.
Inside were printed documents, an encrypted drive, and an old photograph.
The photograph made no sense.
It showed a military scholarship ceremony fifteen years earlier.
I was nineteen.
Skinny.
Nervous.
Standing beside my parents.
And in the background, half obscured by another person, stood a much younger Gregory Palmer.
I picked it up.
Tiffany saw him immediately.
“No.”
Mom leaned forward.
“What?”
Tiffany pointed.
“That’s Greg.”
Dad frowned.
“How?”
My mouth went dry.
“I didn’t meet Greg until three years ago.”
Tiffany whispered, “So did I.”
Hale removed a folded note from the case.
Voss’s handwriting.
He read it silently.
Then handed it to me.
Evelyn—
If you are reading this, assume I am dead.
Nightglass did not begin with the recent breaches.
It began with recruitment.
Someone has spent years identifying military personnel whose families provide exploitable access points.
Your family was selected before you received your first clearance.
Palmer is not the architect.
He is the bridge.
Do not trust the obvious betrayal.
Find the first photograph.
—N.V.
I read it twice.
Tiffany whispered, “What does ‘first photograph’ mean?”
I looked at the image again.
Then remembered something.
A picture Mom kept in the upstairs hallway.
My scholarship ceremony.
Same day.
Taken from another angle.
“Mom.”
She looked at me.
“The original photo from this ceremony. Where is it?”
“At home.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
General Hale immediately called Price.
Twenty minutes later, an evidence team retrieved the framed photograph.
They photographed the front.
Then removed the backing.
Inside, taped beneath the cardboard, was a memory card.
My mother nearly fainted.
It had been inside our home for fifteen years.
The digital contents were partially corrupted.
One folder remained readable.
Twelve photographs.
All of me.
College.
ROTC.
Graduation.
First duty station.
And one text file.
A list of names.
I recognized several.
Military officers.
Cyber specialists.
Intelligence analysts.
Some active.
Some retired.
Three dead.
At the bottom was my name.
Beside it:
SUBJECT ECHO — LONG-TERM ACCESS VIABLE THROUGH FAMILY.
And beneath that:
PRIMARY HANDLER: G. PALMER.
SUPERVISING ASSET: HARRIER.
General Hale leaned closer.
“Harrier.”
I knew that code name.
I had seen it once in an intelligence fragment tied to Nightglass.
A senior American source.
Unidentified.
Powerful.
Protected.
Then Price entered.
“We found Palmer’s vehicle.”
“Where?”
“Parking garage downtown.”
“And Palmer?”
“Gone.”
“Cameras?”
“Disabled.”
Tiffany’s phone, sealed on the table, suddenly vibrated.
Everyone stared.
A new message appeared.
This time the sender was Greg.
TIFF, I CAN EXPLAIN.
Then another.
DON’T TRUST EVELYN.
A third arrived.
ASK HER WHAT HAPPENED IN KANDAHAR.
Tiffany looked at me.
“What happened in Kandahar?”
I said nothing.
Her face changed.
“Evelyn?”
The room felt smaller.
General Hale watched me carefully.
Because unlike Tiffany, he knew exactly what Greg was referring to.
A mission seven years earlier.
A mission in which six Americans died.
May you like
A mission whose intelligence package had contained my digital signature.
And a mission I had spent seven years trying to prove somebody else had altered.
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