Navy SEAL Asked Her Rank As A Joke — Then Four Generals Saluted Her Immediately
Chapter 14
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There's a lot of red, and most of it traces back to one set of credentials."That's fabricated!" Reese's voice has lost its certainty. "Someone planted that data!""The authentication includes biometric verification, sir." Kline's voice is mechanical, like he's delivering a diagnosis he doesn't want to believe. "Fingerprint, retinal scan, timestamped access from your personal terminal. These aren't simple password hacks."A new window opens, showing real-time correlation analysis: every file Reese accessed cross-referenced against intelligence reports of compromised operations. Each match highlighted, timestamped, documented. The correlation percentage climbs: 70%, 80%, 93%."Sir," Kline sounds like he's going to be sick, "this shows that every time you accessed specific tactical files, operations failed within 72 hours. The pattern is statistically impossible to explain as coincidence."Brooks has his hand near his sidearm now—not drawing, just ready. "Admiral, I need you to step away from the console.""This is insane!" But Reese is backing away—cornered, desperate. "You're all believing fabricated evidence over 12 years of service—30 years of service!"Ward's voice cuts through. "You had 30 years: built a career, earned respect, then threw it away selling intelligence to private contractors, getting operators killed. For what? Money?""I never—""Project Nexus. Nexus Strategic Solutions. You've been transferring classified data to them for eight months. The financial records show payments matching the transfer timeline: every time you pulled files, money appeared in accounts you thought were untraceable."Another window opens: bank statements, wire transfers, shell companies. All of it documented, all of it damning.Outside, the sound of rotors grows louder: multiple aircraft approaching fast. Everyone moves to the windows. Four Black Hawk helicopters descending toward the base helipad—not standard transport, but command birds, the kind reserved for flag officers and emergency deployments.Reese's face goes pale. "Who did you call?""I didn't call anyone. The protocol did, automatically, when I missed my 1600 check-in." She watches the helicopters settle. "Standard procedure for deep cover operations: missed check-in triggers immediate response. Ensures the asset is secure and evidence is preserved."The helicopters touch down. Doors open. Four figures emerge: even at this distance, the stars on their uniforms catch the light—generals moving with the kind of purpose that suggests this isn't a social visit.Reese turns back to Ward. Something in his expression shifts, desperation replacing everything else. "We have 45 minutes before the lockdown backup power fails. You want to do this right? Fine. But we need to secure the evidence before the system goes dark.""Convenient timeline, Admiral.""It's the truth! Check the power logs. Backup generators weren't designed for extended lockdowns. We've got 45 minutes, maybe less."Ward looks at Kline. "Confirm."Kline pulls up the power management system. "He's right. Backup power at 63%. Current drain rate gives us approximately 42 minutes before non-essential systems start shutting down. That includes the audit protocol.""Then we finish this now."Ward turns to Hayes—the lieutenant who spent three months making her life difficult, who spread rumors, who laughed at every joke at her expense."Lieutenant Hayes, you need to do something for me."