Chapter 2 - THE BADGE THAT SHOULDN’T EXISTDerek’s hand disappeared beneath the table.
Most people wouldn’t have noticed.
I did.
Military command teaches you to pay attention to movements people make when they believe everyone else is looking somewhere else.
Derek slipped something into his jacket pocket.
I turned toward Mercer.
“Colonel.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Secure the room.”
Brooke recoiled.
“What?”
Mercer didn’t hesitate.
“Major Ruiz.”
Ruiz moved toward the ballroom doors while Foster quietly spoke into his radio.
The atmosphere changed instantly.
Mom stood.
“Caroline, what is happening?”
“Sit down, Mom.”
She stared at me.
I had never used that voice with her.
At work, people called it my briefing-room voice.
My family heard it for the first time that night.
She sat.
Brooke looked around at the guests.
“These people have nothing to do with this.”
“Hopefully not.”
Her eyes snapped toward mine.
“You’re seriously trapping everyone in here because of a stupid badge?”
“A badge that entered a compartmented facility.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
Derek spoke.
“Brooke, stop talking.”
That told me something.
My sister turned toward him.
“What?”
“Just stop.”
His forehead was shining.
Brooke’s confusion appeared genuine.
That bothered me more than a rehearsed lie would have.
“Colonel,” I said, “how far did the badge get?”
“Exterior checkpoint, administration vestibule, elevator control, then third-floor corridor.”
My stomach tightened.
“That’s impossible with her authorization level.”
“We agree.”
“So someone modified the permissions.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Brooke looked between us.
“You’re talking like my badge has access to some secret bunker.”
“No,” I said. “I’m saying it absolutely does not.”
She folded her arms.
“Then clearly your system made a mistake.”
“It didn’t.”
The answer came from Major Ruiz.
She was standing at the entrance now, speaking with two military police officers.
Ruiz had spent fifteen years working communications security.
She did not make casual statements.
“The credential was authenticated four times,” she continued. “Same serial number. Same certificate.”
Brooke looked down at the empty clip on her purse.
“My badge was there this afternoon.”
“When did you last physically see it?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
She frowned.
“When I left work.”
“What time?”
“Four-thirty.”
“Where?”
“Our Arlington office.”
“Did you go anywhere afterward?”
“Salon. Then home. Then here.”
“Who was with you at the office?”
“A lot of people.”
“Derek?”
Silence.
Derek stared at me.
Brooke blinked.
“Yes.”
I watched him.
“So you visited Atlas Meridian today?”
He shrugged.
“I picked up my wife.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
His jaw tightened.
“I went inside.”
“Why?”
“Because married people occasionally visit each other.”
Brooke gave an irritated laugh.
“This is ridiculous.”
I ignored her.
“What did you put in your pocket just now?”
Derek froze.
Mom whispered my name.
I held out my hand.
“Give it to me.”
His eyes moved toward the exit.
Two MPs were standing there.
He laughed weakly.
“You can’t search me.”
“No,” I said. “But security personnel can establish whether you’re carrying controlled government property.”
His face hardened.
“I’m a civilian.”
“Correct.”
“So you don’t command me.”
“No. But you’re inside a federally contracted event space adjacent to an installation security investigation, and right now the easiest path for you is to hand over whatever you concealed.”
He didn’t move.
Brooke stared at him.
“Derek?”
Finally, he reached into his pocket.
He removed a black plastic card sleeve.
My pulse slowed rather than accelerated.
Years of crisis management had taught me something strange.
The more dangerous a situation became, the quieter my mind got.
Mercer took the sleeve.
Inside was a visitor credential.
Not Brooke’s.
The name printed across it was MICHAEL DALTON.
I knew the name immediately.
Dalton worked for Atlas Meridian.
Deputy director of systems integration.
He had been flagged two weeks earlier after attempting to obtain information unrelated to his contract.
Nothing criminal.
Not yet.
But unusual enough that my security staff had started watching.
Brooke snatched the badge sleeve from Mercer’s hand.
“Why do you have Michael’s pass?”
Derek swallowed.
“He left it in my car.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“You told me you barely knew him.”
“I barely do.”
Mercer held out his hand.
Brooke returned the pass.
I studied Derek.
“What does Dalton want inside Building Seven?”
“I have no idea.”
“Then why are you carrying his visitor credential?”
“He forgot it.”
“Why didn’t you return it?”
“I was going to.”
“Tonight?”
“No.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
His answers were becoming shorter.
That usually happened when lies were running out of room.
Brooke stepped closer to him.
“Derek, where is my badge?”
“I don’t know.”
“You had my purse.”
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
“So?”
“When I was getting my hair done. You moved my purse from the car.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
Her voice changed.
The arrogance disappeared.
For the first time that evening, my sister looked frightened.
I almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
Then she turned toward me.
“This is your fault.”
Dad stared at her.
“Brooke.”
“No. Think about it. She never told us she was some general. She sits there letting us believe she’s nobody, and suddenly military police are locking doors because my badge disappeared?”
I studied her.
“What exactly are you accusing me of?”
“I don’t know!”
“Then choose your next words carefully.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“You humiliated me.”
I glanced at the blank card.
“No, Brooke. You kicked my chair away five minutes before anyone in this room knew my rank.”
Her face reddened.
Several guests looked down.
She knew they had heard.
I continued.
“And this isn’t about the dinner anymore.”
Mercer’s phone vibrated.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
“General.”
I turned.
“They located the person who used the badge.”
“Where?”
“Building Seven.”
“Detained?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
Mercer hesitated.
“He’s barricaded himself inside Communications Suite Three.”
The room felt suddenly smaller.
I knew exactly what was inside that suite.
Not strategic war plans.
Not launch codes.
Nothing so cinematic.
Something much more useful to someone motivated by money.
The encrypted routing architecture for emergency logistics contracts.
Information that could reveal where billions of dollars in federal procurement would be redirected during infrastructure disruptions.
To most people, it would look like spreadsheets and maps.
To the right company, it could be worth a fortune.
I looked at Derek.
He was staring at the floor.
“Who is inside?” I asked.
Mercer answered.
“Michael Dalton.”
Brooke slowly turned toward her husband.
Derek closed his eyes.
May you like
And my sister whispered the question none of us wanted answered.
“What did you do?”
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