Chapter 4 - THE COMMANDERCommander Thomas Vale arrived for duty Monday morning as though nothing had happened.
By 8:15, two NCIS agents were waiting inside his office.
Vale did not panic.
He did not ask for an attorney.
He laughed.
That frightened me more than panic would have.
I watched the recorded interview two days later.
“You're telling me,” Vale said, leaning back in his chair, “that a former civilian employee with documented stress issues accused me of running some sort of conspiracy?”
Grant remained expressionless.
“She says she reported compromised firmware.”
“She was wrong.”
“Did you investigate?”
“Of course.”
“Where's the report?”
Vale paused.
“I'd have to check.”
“Did you know Rachel Kim?”
“Professionally.”
“Sarah Coleman?”
“Same answer.”
“Daniel Bennett?”
Vale smiled.
“Everybody in procurement knew Daniel.”
“Did you socialize?”
“Occasionally.”
Grant placed photographs on the desk.
One showed Vale and Daniel standing together at a charity golf tournament.
Another showed them at a waterfront restaurant.
A third showed Vale entering Daniel's car outside an Atlantic Meridian office.
Vale barely glanced at them.
“None of that is illegal.”
“No.”
“Then what's your point?”
Grant leaned forward.
“My point is that three women connected to vendor irregularities experienced remarkably unfortunate life changes.”
Vale's smile faded slightly.
“One quit.”
“One vanished.”
“One died.”
“That sounds dramatic.”
“Does it?”
Vale folded his arms.
“Do you have a question?”
“Yes.”
Grant placed the final photograph down.
It was my name on Daniel's phone.
OLIVIA BENNETT — PENDING.
For the first time, Vale's eyes changed.
Barely.
But enough.
Grant noticed.
“So,” he said. “Let's talk about Lieutenant Bennett.”
“I barely know her.”
“Interesting.”
“Why?”
“Because somebody using a phone registered to your brother sent her a threatening text six hours after Daniel Bennett was arrested.”
Vale stopped smiling.
The interrogation ended seven minutes later when he requested counsel.
But he was not arrested.
Not yet.
The evidence was suspicious.
Not conclusive.
And whoever had created the operation appeared to understand exactly how much distance to place between decisions and consequences.
Pike brought Daniel onto the base.
Daniel attacked me.
Diane helped.
Atlantic Meridian moved money.
Vale appeared in conversations.
But no single document said:
Thomas Vale ordered anyone harmed.
That gap mattered.
Then the blood from Rachel's storage unit came back.
It belonged to Rachel.
The amount was small.
Investigators believed it had come from an injury, not necessarily a fatal one.
More important was what they found underneath it.
A partial shoe print.
Men's size eleven.
The tread matched boots issued to Atlantic Meridian field technicians.
Thousands existed.
Still not enough.
Meanwhile, Daniel finally agreed to speak.
Not because he felt remorse.
Because his attorney told him federal investigators were considering charges that could keep him imprisoned for decades.
Daniel asked for a deal.
Grant refused to promise one.
So Daniel began trading pieces of information.
The first stunned me.
He claimed he had never intended to hurt Rachel.
“She was supposed to be scared,” he said.
“By whom?” Grant asked.
“Vale.”
“Commander Vale?”
Daniel rubbed his face.
“He told me Rachel was stealing classified information.”
“And you believed him?”
“I believed she could ruin the company.”
“What did you do?”
“I talked to her.”
“Like you talked to Monica Reyes?”
Daniel didn't answer.
Grant continued.
“Did you threaten Sarah Coleman?”
“No.”
“Did you kill her?”
“No!”
“Did Vale?”
“I don't know.”
“But you suspected something.”
Daniel looked toward the camera.
“Yes.”
That word echoed through every part of me.
Daniel had suspected people around him might be hurting women.
And he stayed.
Not just stayed.
Helped.
“For money?” Grant asked.
Daniel stared at the table.
“At first.”
“At first?”
“Then I couldn't get out.”
“You always could've gotten out.”
Daniel laughed bitterly.
“You don't know Vale.”
Grant replied calmly.
“Tell me.”
Daniel's shoulders sagged.
“Atlantic Meridian wasn't just overbilling.”
“We know.”
“They were selling access.”
“To whom?”
“I don't know names.”
“Foreign intelligence?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I handled relationships. Contractors. Introductions. Gifts. I didn't handle the technical side.”
“And the women?”
“Sarah noticed discrepancies.”
“What happened?”
“Vale told me she'd been dealt with.”
Grant's voice sharpened.
“What does that mean?”
“I didn't ask.”
“What about Monica?”
“She found the firmware modification.”
“You threatened her.”
“Yes.”
“Rachel?”
“Rachel had everything.”
“What everything?”
“Payment records. Firmware logs. Messages.”
“And a phone.”
Daniel nodded.
“Where is it?”
“I don't know.”
“Why did you think Olivia had it?”
“Because Rachel told me she would give it to the one person I couldn't control.”
Even through the recording, I felt sick.
Grant asked the obvious question.
“Olivia?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Daniel's answer was quiet.
“Rachel knew what I was doing to her.”
I closed my eyes.
My private humiliation hadn't been private at all.
Someone at work had seen the bruises.
The excuses.
The fear.
Rachel had understood.
Daniel continued.
“She said one day Olivia would finally realize what I was.”
“So Rachel intended to give her the evidence?”
“I thought so.”
“Did she?”
“I don't know.”
“And Friday?”
Daniel's jaw tightened.
“What was supposed to happen Friday?”
No answer.
Grant repeated the question.
Daniel finally spoke.
“Vale wanted Olivia removed from the installation.”
“Transferred?”
Daniel looked directly at him.
“No.”
Every muscle in my body went rigid.
Grant didn't change expression.
“What does removed mean?”
“I didn't ask.”
“Yes, you did.”
Daniel's voice cracked.
“He said there was going to be an incident.”
“What kind?”
“A car accident. Something.”
My hands began trembling.
Daniel knew.
He had known someone was planning to kill me.
“And that's why you attacked her?” Grant asked.
“I wanted the phone.”
“You could have warned her.”
Daniel said nothing.
“You could have called law enforcement.”
Nothing.
“You could have protected your wife.”
Daniel stared at the floor.
Finally, he whispered:
“I thought if I got the phone, Vale would cancel it.”
I walked out before the interview ended.
For twelve years, I had served beside people who understood duty as something larger than themselves.
Daniel understood only survival.
His own.
I stood alone in a government hallway, fighting the urge to cry.
Then Agent Morales approached.
“We found something.”
“What?”
“The storage unit manager remembered Rachel.”
“That's not surprising.”
“He remembered who picked her up the night she disappeared.”
I turned.
“Who?”
“Not Daniel.”
“Vale?”
“No.”
Morales handed me a photograph.
The man pictured was in his late fifties.
Silver hair.
Expensive suit.
I didn't recognize him.
“Who is he?”
“Richard Halston. Atlantic Meridian's chief executive.”
The conspiracy had just moved higher.
May you like
Much higher.
And Halston was scheduled to leave the United States the following morning.
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