Three additional officers attended by encrypted link.
Brock’s empty chair remained at the far end.
I entered.
Everyone stood.
I ignored the gesture and took my seat.
“Let’s not perform respect now,” I said. “We have work.”
Admiral Pierce looked uncomfortable.
“Captain, what happened on the field was unacceptable.”
“Yes.”
“I want to assure you—”
“I am not here for assurances.”
The room went quiet.
I placed my handkerchief on the table.
The small bloodstain had dried to dark red.
“Why was Sullivan already under investigation?”
Agent Velez opened a secure file.
“Five months ago, equipment began disappearing from SEAL Team Seven inventory.”
“What equipment?”
“Encrypted communications modules, low-signature tracking beacons, and two prototype targeting interfaces.”
“Reported as lost?”
“Damaged during maritime training.”
“Were they?”
“No.”
Images appeared on the screen.
Serial numbers.
Shipping documents.
Recovered components.
Velez continued.
“Three devices surfaced in a weapons seizure in North Africa.”
My attention sharpened.
“Who signed the loss reports?”
“Commander Sullivan.”
“Who certified destruction?”
“His logistics officer, Lieutenant Commander Noah Griggs.”
“Where is Griggs?”
“Missing.”
“How long?”
“Seventy-two hours.”
Admiral Cross changed the display.
A photograph of Brock appeared beside a map of southern California and northern Mexico.
“We believe Sullivan may have been transferring equipment through a private security contractor.”
“Which one?”
“Vanguard Maritime Solutions.”
I knew the name.
Everyone at the table saw it on my face.
Vanguard had provided civilian vessels during Operation Black Current.
One of those vessels betrayed our position.
Eleven operators were wounded.
Two never came home.
The sabotage had never been proven.
“You think Brock was involved then?” I asked.
“We think someone inside Naval Special Warfare provided route data,” Cross said. “Sullivan was deputy operations officer at the time.”
A cold understanding settled into place.
Brock had not slapped me because of a disagreement over ceremony.
He had recognized me.
Not fully.
But enough.
During the parade rehearsal that morning, I questioned a training route shown on a briefing board. The route used a pattern similar to Black Current.
Brock became aggressive immediately.
He told me administrative observers did not belong near operational planning.
I asked who approved the route.
He ordered me off the field.
I stayed.
Hours later, before one thousand and forty troops, he struck me.
Publicly.
Deliberately.
“He wanted me discredited,” I said.
Preview
Agent Velez nodded.
“Or provoked.”
Admiral Pierce leaned forward.
“If you had injured him severely, he could have claimed self-defense and forced exposure of your record during a public court-martial.”
“He expected me to fight.”
“Yes.”
I looked toward Reed.
“He knew enough about my training to expect a response.”
Reed’s jaw tightened.
“Someone briefed him.”
Cross enlarged a file-access report.
“Yesterday, a restricted personnel archive was accessed using credentials assigned to Commander Elaine Mercer.”
I knew the name.
Mercer served as deputy director of personnel security at the Pentagon.
She had reviewed my cover identity six months earlier.
“Was the file opened?”
“Partially. Most records remained compartmented, but the access log revealed your deployment overlap with Black Current.”
“Where is Mercer?”
No one answered immediately.
That told me enough.
Agent Velez spoke.
“She was found dead in her apartment at zero-four-thirty this morning.”
