Chapter 14 - The Whistleblower’s Shadow
Midnight draped over the outskirts of Junction City, Kansas. A light drizzle slicked the asphalt of the abandoned diner parking lot just two miles from the main gate of Fort Riley.
I sat inside an unmarked military sedan, my service pistol rested securely in its tactical holster beneath my civilian jacket. In the passenger seat beside me sat Special Agent Maya Torres from the Army Criminal Investigation Division. Kane had hand-picked Torres because her loyalty lay strictly with the badge, not with Washington politics.
"You're sure he’s legit, Colonel?" Torres asked, checking the feed on her secure recorder.
"He was Donald’s chief logistical accountant for eight years," I replied, watching the perimeter through the rain-streaked windshield. "Ethan identified his signature on three offshore transfers during the audit in Cedar Rapids. His name is Arthur Pendelton. If he’s reaching out to me now, it means Donald’s associates have started cleaning house."
Headlights cut through the mist. A battered grey sedan pulled into the far end of the lot, its engine idling nervously before shutting off. A slender, middle-aged man stepped out into the rain, clutching a water-resistant courier bag against his chest like a shield.
"That's Pendelton," I said. "Keep your eyes on the treeline, Torres."
We stepped out of the vehicle and walked toward the man. Pendelton flinched at the sound of our footsteps, his face pale under the amber glow of the single flickering streetlamp. Rain plastered his thinning hair to his scalp.
"Colonel Vance?" he gasped, his teeth chattering. "Tell me you brought federal protection. Tell me you have an extraction team."
"Agent Torres is CID," I said evenly. "You're safe as long as you're with us, Pendelton. What was so urgent that you couldn't speak through the U.S. Attorney’s office?"
Pendelton looked around frantically, his breath fogging in the cold night air. "The U.S. Attorney’s office is compromised! Assistant Undersecretary Albright has three federal judges in his pocket. Donald isn't going to trial, Colonel. They’re orchestrating an emergency medical furlough for him tomorrow morning!"
Torres stepped forward, her brow furrowing. "On what grounds? He’s being held without bail on federal conspiracy charges."
"Cardiovascular distress, fabricated by a private physician on their payroll," Pendelton rushed out, thrusting the courier bag into my hands. "Look at the drive inside! It’s all there! Operation Iron Talon isn't just about selling cheap armor. Donald’s syndicate has already sold the proprietary targeting software for the Vanguard’s new command systems to a private security syndicate operating out of Eastern Europe—The Corinth Group!"
I opened the waterproof pouch and felt the cold metallic weight of an encrypted solid-state drive. "Why would Donald sell the Vanguard’s software?"
"Because Donald doesn't care about the company anymore," Pendelton said, his voice breaking into a terrified sob. "Donald knows his public career is finished. He’s liquidating everything, preparing an escape corridor out of the country. And the Corinth Group promised him safe harbor in exchange for the backdoor codes to the 116th’s tactical battle network!"
Before I could question him further, a sharp *crack* split the night air.
Pendelton’s body jerked violently. A crimson bloom blossomed instantly across his chest, and he collapsed onto the wet asphalt without a sound.
"Sniper! Get down!" Torres screamed, drawing her weapon as she dragged Pendelton’s limp body behind the shelter of my car.
May you like
A second round tore through the sedan’s rear window, showering us with shattered safety glass.
***
