Chapter 2 - THE AMBUSH IN THE CORRIDOR
Senator Vance brought her gavel down with the force of an artillery blast.
“Federal marshals! Clear the gallery! This committee is in emergency recess. General Harris, Colonel Leair—you will surrender your passports and military credentials to the Sergeant-at-Arms immediately. You are remanded to the custody of the Provost Marshal!”
The room exploded into pure chaos. Camera crews shoved through mahogany doors, reporters screamed questions into handheld recorders, and flashbulbs strobe-lit the dust motes in the chamber air.
Admiral James Foster stepped up beside my wheelchair as I sank back into the seat, my legs shaking uncontrollably from the agony of standing. He threw my uniform coat over my bare shoulders, shielding my branded skin from the vultures in the press gallery.
“Breathe, Lieutenant,” Foster murmured softly. “You just dropped a bunker-buster down their chimney. But the blast radius isn't clear yet.”
Sarah Alvarez gathered our encrypted drives into her ballistic briefcase, snapping the steel locks shut. “We have an unmarked transport waiting in the Russell sub-basement. We need to move before the Pentagon’s legal counsel files an emergency national security gag order.”
We pushed through a secure side exit into the labyrinthine service tunnels that connect the Capitol complex. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting long, sickly shadows across the concrete.
“Maya!”
The voice hit me like a slap.
We turned at the junction of the maintenance tunnel. My father had slipped his military escort—he knew the Capitol’s evacuation routes better than anyone, having served as a legislative liaison a decade ago. His tie was loosened, his face flushed a dangerous, mottled crimson. Two junior Shore Patrol officers were jogging toward him fifty yards back, but for five seconds, it was just him and me.
“You have no idea what you’ve done,” he breathed, stepping toward my chair. His hand reached into his jacket.
Admiral Foster stepped between us, his six-foot-three frame blocking my father entirely. “Keep your hands where I can see them, Daniel. Or I will break your neck right here on the concrete, uniform be damned.”
Daniel Leair stopped. He looked over Foster’s shoulder at me, his eyes wide, wild, and hunted.
“They’re going to kill Chen,” my father whispered, the bravado completely gone, replaced by a raw, animal terror I had never seen in him. “You think you won a legal victory, Maya? You think this is a courtroom drama? The people who back Orion... they aren't just defense contractors. They manage three hundred billion in sovereign wealth funds. Harris was a figurehead. I was a puppet.”
“You were a coward,” I said, cold fury chilling my blood. “You let Miller die. You let Hayes die.”
“I was trying to keep *you* alive!” he shouted, tears of rage springing to his eyes. “If I didn’t declare you unstable, Harris was going to have your transport van ambushed between Landstuhl and Ramstein! I signed the redaction order so they’d put you in a psych ward instead of six feet under with your squad!”
“And the millions in blind trust stock?” Sarah Alvarez countered, stepping forward with her phone recording his face. “Was that for her protection too, Colonel?”
Daniel’s face froze. The Shore Patrol officers caught up with him, grabbing his arms and pulling him backward.
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“Check the off-site server in Langley!” my father screamed as they forced him to the ground and zip-tied his wrists. “Check the Blackbriar files! Maya, they’re cleaning the board! If David Chen is still alive, he has the unredacted payload logs! Find him before the contractors do!”
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