Chapter 6 - Why They Chose MeI followed Mercer into an empty briefing room and locked the door behind us.
“Say that again.”
He placed a digital recorder on the table.
“Jonathan Vale claims your assignment to Night Lantern was manipulated.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because I went through a competitive selection process.”
“You did.”
“My commanding officer recommended me.”
“He did.”
“My evaluations were reviewed.”
“Yes.”
“Then how was it manipulated?”
Mercer folded his arms.
“You were qualified, Lieutenant. Nobody is questioning that.”
“I’m questioning everything.”
“Your name was inserted onto the final candidate list after another officer was removed.”
I stared at him.
“Who?”
“Lieutenant Andrew Keller.”
I knew the name.
Keller had transferred to Japan shortly before Night Lantern.
“At the time, we believed Keller was pulled for medical reasons,” Mercer continued. “He wasn’t.”
“Vale removed him?”
“Through Hayes.”
“Why me?”
Mercer hesitated.
“Vale says you were insurance.”
The word made no sense.
“Against what?”
“Your father.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“My father didn’t even know what unit I was attached to.”
“He knew more than he realized.”
Mercer explained.
For years, Captain Richard Sterling had served on procurement and readiness boards that reviewed contracts involving communications systems, navigation technology, and secure maritime equipment.
Vale’s network had been exploiting those contracts.
My father had noticed inconsistencies.
Not criminal activity.
Not yet.
But enough to begin asking questions.
Vale worried.
Then I was selected for a classified mission connected to evidence that could expose the network.
“They put me there to control Dad?”
“In part.”
“How?”
“If the mission succeeded, Vale believed he could pressure your father using information about your classified role.”
“And if it failed?”
Mercer didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
I stared at the wall.
“You were never supposed to survive.”
Vale’s words on the dock suddenly carried new meaning.
I had assumed he meant after the ambush.
He meant before it.
The mission was designed to erase evidence.
And I was disposable leverage.
My father entered ten minutes later.
Mercer had called him.
Dad sat across from me.
I told him everything.
He aged while listening.
Not metaphorically.
His shoulders seemed to collapse.
His face turned gray.
When I finished, he whispered, “Jonathan used you because of me.”
“No.”
“He did.”
“He used me because he was a criminal.”
“If I had noticed sooner—”
“Don’t.”
He looked at me.
“I carried those deaths for five years. I’m not handing them to you.”
His eyes filled.
“How can you say that?”
“Because I know what guilt does when it has nowhere useful to go.”
He covered his face.
We sat in silence.
Eventually, he said, “There were contracts.”
“What contracts?”
“Secure navigation hardware. I kept finding discrepancies between listed quantities and installation records.”
“You reported it?”
“Yes.”
“To whom?”
“Jonathan.”
Of course.
My father laughed bitterly.
“He told me it was accounting lag.”
Mercer leaned forward.
“Do you still have your notes?”
Dad looked at him.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“My home office.”
“Digital?”
“Some. Paper too.”
Mercer stood.
“We need them.”
Dad nodded.
We drove to my parents’ house under NCIS escort.
I hadn’t been there in months.
The framed family photographs were still arranged along the hallway.
Chloe’s graduation.
Dad’s promotions.
Mom and Dad in Hawaii.
There was one photograph of me in uniform.
Small.
Near the bottom shelf.
Dad noticed me looking.
His face tightened.
“I took the larger one down.”
“I remember.”
“I’m putting it back.”
“That’s not important.”
“It is to me.”
“Then do it for you.”
He nodded.
We entered his study.
Everything looked untouched.
Dad opened a locked filing cabinet.
“Here.”
Folders.
Contract numbers.
Handwritten notes.
Email printouts.
Mercer began photographing everything.
Then Dad froze.
“What?”
“One folder is missing.”
“Which?”
“Pacific Maritime Systems.”
Mercer looked at him sharply.
“That company appears in Vale’s indictment.”
Dad searched the drawer.
“It was here.”
“When did you last see it?”
“Months ago.”
“Who has access to this room?”
“My wife. Chloe.”
My father stopped.
“And Jonathan.”
I looked at him.
“Vale was here?”
“Three weeks ago.”
The room went still.
“What was he doing?”
“He came for dinner.”
“Did he come in here?”
Dad nodded slowly.
“He said he needed to use the printer.”
Mercer cursed.
His phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then looked at me.
“We have a bigger problem.”
“What?”
“Vale’s attorney says his client will cooperate fully.”
“That sounds like a smaller problem.”
“Not if the cooperation is true.”
“What did he offer?”
Mercer’s jaw tightened.
“A storage facility.”
“What’s in it?”
“He claims it contains original transaction records, communications, and evidence involving multiple officers.”
Dad sat down heavily.
“How many?”
“Vale says at least eleven.”
I felt cold.
“Active duty?”
“Some.”
“How high?”
Mercer didn’t answer directly.
“High enough that this is moving beyond NCIS.”
By sunset, federal agents had taken over my parents’ dining room.
My mother made coffee nobody drank.
Chloe stayed upstairs.
I didn’t ask where she was.
At 7:15 p.m., Admiral Ward arrived.
He looked exhausted.
“Emily.”
“Sir.”
“Walk with me.”
We went outside.
The neighborhood was quiet.
Kids rode bicycles two houses down.
Someone was grilling.
Ordinary life continued while mine rearranged itself.
Ward stopped beneath a maple tree.
“Vale’s storage site was searched.”
“And?”
“He told the truth.”
“How bad?”
“Bad.”
“Who?”
“I can’t give you names yet.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because one document concerns you.”
I waited.
He handed me a photocopy.
It was a memo dated six years earlier.
The subject line read:
STERLING, E. — CONTINGENCY VALUE.
My stomach turned.
Below it was an assessment of my father’s access and influence.
Then a paragraph about me.
Naval officer.
Unmarried.
Operationally ambitious.
Strong paternal relationship.
Potential leverage.
I felt sick.
“They studied me.”
“Yes.”
“Before Night Lantern.”
“Yes.”
I read the final line.
If required, subject may be placed within controlled operational exposure.
I looked at Ward.
“They planned to put me in danger.”
“Yes.”
“How long have you known?”
“Since four this afternoon.”
I handed the page back.
“I want Vale.”
“He’s in federal custody.”
“I want to speak to him.”
“No.”
“Admiral—”
“No.”
“You brought me this.”
“Because you deserved to know.”
“Then I deserve to look him in the eye.”
Ward studied me.
“You’re not an investigator anymore.”
“I never was.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m also not your lieutenant anymore.”
His jaw twitched.
“That’s debatable until the paperwork catches up.”
Despite myself, I almost smiled.
Then the front door opened.
Chloe came outside.
“Emily?”
I turned.
Her face was pale.
“What?”
“I need to tell you something.”
She held a folder.
A blue folder.
My father stepped onto the porch behind her.
The instant he saw it, he froze.
“Where did you get that?”
Chloe started crying.
“This was in my apartment.”
Dad walked closer.
“That’s the missing Pacific Maritime file.”
Mercer appeared behind him.
“Don’t touch it.”
Chloe looked terrified.
“I didn’t steal it.”
“Then how did it get into your apartment?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
I watched her carefully.
“Chloe.”
“I swear.”
“When did you first see it?”
“Tonight.”
“Where?”
“In a box Jonathan gave me.”
My father went completely still.
“What box?”
Chloe’s eyes moved toward him.
“He asked me to hold some things for him three weeks ago.”
Mercer stepped forward.
“What things?”
“Files. A hard drive. An envelope.”
“Where are they now?”
Her mouth opened.
Then closed.
“Chloe.”
She started shaking.
“I threw away the hard drive.”
Mercer’s face hardened.
“Why?”
“Because Jonathan called me this afternoon.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me people were trying to destroy him. He said the drive could ruin Dad’s career.”
My father stared at her.
“So you destroyed evidence?”
“I thought I was protecting you.”
I recognized the logic.
The same poisonous family instinct.
Protect appearances.
Hide shame.
Decide facts later.
Mercer took the folder.
“What about the envelope?”
Chloe looked at me.
“I opened it.”
“What was inside?”
She reached into her purse.
A photograph.
She handed it to me.
My breath stopped.
It showed Night Lantern’s team standing beside our aircraft hours before departure.
Someone had circled my face in red ink.
On the back were four handwritten words.
MAKE STERLING THE FALLBACK.
I looked at Chloe.
She whispered, “Emily, I think Jonathan knew you were going to be attacked before you even left.”
I looked toward Mercer.
He was already calling Washington.
And I finally understood.
May you like
Night Lantern wasn’t an operation that had gone wrong.
It had been betrayed from the beginning.
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