Chapter 14: Descent into the Pentagon
The encrypted phone line remained dead silent for several seconds after my cold laugh echoed through the speaker.
Then, Marcus Vance’s smooth, measured voice cut through the static, carrying an eerie composure that chilled the cabin air.
“You sound remarkably calm for a woman whose hospital just survived a C4 detonation, Victoria,” Marcus said, his tone dripping with false warmth.
“Did your tactical sweeps locate the Orion operatives?”
I gripped the helicopter’s cyclic control stick tighter, my knuckles turning white as I banked the aircraft sharply toward the Potomac River, descending into restricted airspace over Northern Virginia without transmitting our transponder codes.
“We found them, Marcus,” I replied evenly, my voice like crushed ice.
“And they sang like canaries before the smoke even cleared. They told me everything about the Orion Syndicate. They even gave me the name of the commanding officer who authorized the black-budget contracts.”
A faint, sharp intake of breath hissed through the receiver on the other end.
The composure in Marcus’s voice fractured just a fraction.
“Is that so?” Marcus recovered quickly, though his tone grew colder.
“And what did this phantom operative claim?”
“He didn't claim anything,” I said, lining up the crosshairs of the capital skyline on my navigation display.
“He provided bank routing numbers, encrypted satellite relay logs, and signed authorization forms bearing your personal military identification number. You built an entire shadow empire using stolen defense funds, Marcus. And you used my daughter as collateral to keep me quiet.”
Silence descended on the line once more—heavier this time, devoid of any pretense or deception.
When Marcus spoke again, the mask of the friendly mentor was entirely gone, replaced by the chilling voice of a cornered predator.
“You should have stayed in Charlotte, Victoria,” Marcus hissed.
“You think walking into the Pentagon annex with a handful of decrypted files makes you a hero? I have entire battalions of military police stationed around this facility under my direct command. You will be arrested for treason before your landing gear even touches the asphalt.”
“Let them try,” I whispered fiercely.
“I’m five minutes out, Marcus. Keep your office door unlocked. I’m coming to collect your stars.”
I terminated the call with a sharp tap of my thumb, tossing the encrypted phone onto the empty passenger seat beside me.
Below, the massive, limestone-gray monolith of the Pentagon annex loomed under the pale light of dawn, surrounded by heavy perimeter security fences and empty parking lots.
I didn't request landing clearance.
I hovered the helicopter directly over the secure rooftop helipad of the annex, flaring the rotors and setting the aircraft down hard onto the concrete pad with military precision.
The moment the wheels locked, I killed the engine, pushed open the cockpit door, and stepped out into the freezing morning wind.
Two armed military police guards rushed out from the rooftop stairwell tower, their rifles raised and pointed straight at my chest.
“Halt! Identify yourself and state your clearance code!” the lead guard shouted over the whining whine of the slowing turbine blades.
I didn't stop.
I unclipped my service identification badge from my tactical vest, tossing it directly at his feet without breaking my stride.
“I am Colonel Victoria Hart,” I said, my voice carrying the absolute, unquestionable authority of a combat commander.
“Lower your weapons, or you’ll spend the rest of your court-martial peeling potatoes in the Sahara. Move aside.”
The guards stared at my badge, then up at my uniform adorned with combat ribbons, and instinctively hesitated.
May you like
That split second of hesitation was all I needed.
I brushed past them, yanked open the heavy steel rooftop stairwell door, and began descending rapidly toward the top-secret executive suites on the fourth floor—where Marcus Vance was waiting for his final judgment.
