Chapter 6 - Unsealed Records
Room 114 had none of the ballroom's crystal chandeliers or mahogany elegance. It was a functional, sound-dampened tactical conference room with fluorescent lighting that buzzed faintly against the gray walls.
A long laminate table occupied the center. Major General Hayes sat at the head, his cover off, his gray hair cropped down to the skin. To his right sat a civilian woman in a dark charcoal suit with a federal badge pinned to her lapel: Special Agent Sarah Morales, Department of Justice.
In the corner, sitting in a metal folding chair with his wrists handcuffed behind his back, was Daniel.
He looked ruined. His jacket was gone, his tie had been removed, and the top two buttons of his dress shirt were torn. His hair, usually slicked back with expensive pomade, hung in sweaty clumps over his forehead.
When the door clicked shut behind Thorne and me, Daniel looked up. His eyes were red, ringed with dark circles, his skin mottled with splotches of red.
“Emily,” he croaked. “Tell them. Tell them about the emails. It was a prank. It was just a joke between guys at the club.”
Special Agent Morales didn’t even look at him. She slid a thick, buff-colored dossier across the laminate table toward me.
“Colonel Carter,” Morales said, her tone professional, clipped, and devoid of emotion. “Take a seat. We need you to verify three signatures on these overseas transfer authorizations.”
I pulled out a chair and sat down opposite General Hayes. The Silver Star rested flat against my chest, clicking softly against the edge of the table.
I opened the folder.
The first page was an equipment transfer order dated March 14, 2022. It authorized the movement of forty-eight AN/PVS-31 night-vision goggles from the depot in Kuwait to an forward staging base in Erbil. The receiving officer’s signature at the bottom was a clumsy, hurried scrawl meant to mimic my own.
“That’s not my handwriting,” I said, turning the page. “On March 14th, I was at Fort Bragg conducting jumpmaster evaluations. My logbook is verified by the 18th Airborne Corps.”
“We know,” Morales said. “Now look at the third page.”
The third page was Daniel’s official complaint to the Department of Defense Inspector General.
I read through the lines. My brother’s words were typed on official stationery: *“...the individual known as Emily J. Carter has consistently exaggerated operational engagement to secure career advancement. Reliable sources indicate the events of Operation Deep Timber were conducted entirely by civilian paramilitary contractors, with Major Carter remaining within the tactical operations center at all times...”*
“He wanted you dead, professionally,” General Hayes said, his hands folded across his chest. “If this complaint had been validated, Emily, you would have spent three to five years at the disciplinary barracks in Fort Leavenworth. He didn't just want to steal the trust. He wanted to erase your entire existence.”
Daniel let out a pathetic, shuddering sob from the corner. “She took everything from me! Dad loved her more! Even when she was a scrawny little brat running through the fields, Dad spent every weekend teaching her how to shoot, how to read a map! He never gave a damn about my golf tournaments! He never cared about my grades!”
I slowly lifted my head and looked across the room at my brother.
“Dad taught me how to shoot because he knew the world wouldn’t give me a pass for being pretty,” I said, my voice cutting through his hysterics like a scalpel. “He spent his weekends teaching me because I asked him to. You were too busy stealing Dad’s credit cards to buy designer sneakers at the mall.”
“You think you’re so righteous!” Daniel spat, trying to lurch forward, but the MP behind him placed a heavy, gloved palm on his shoulder, driving him back down into the steel chair. “You think because you put on that green suit and went into the sandbox you’re better than me? I worked the system! I did what every smart guy in the military does!”
“No, Daniel,” General Hayes interrupted, his voice dropping into that terrifying, flat register. “You did what every coward and thief does when they think no one is watching. And the most pathetic part of your little enterprise is that you weren’t even smart enough to cover your tracks.”
Agent Morales reached into her briefcase and pulled out a fresh stack of documents.
“Major Carter,” she said, looking over her shoulder at Daniel. “Your bank accounts in Cyprus have been frozen by the Financial Crimes Enforcement Network. Your balance of three hundred and eighty thousand dollars has been seized as proceeds of illicit arms trafficking. Furthermore, your mother’s account at SunTrust has been frozen pending the investigation into her signature on your shell company’s corporate resolution.”
Daniel’s head dropped. “No... Mom didn’t know. Don't touch Mom.”
“Your mother signed six separate corporate filings authorizing the transfer of funds into her checking account,” Morales replied coldly. “She used twenty-two thousand dollars of that money last Tuesday to buy a mink coat and book a luxury suite in Palm Beach.”
The room went dead silent again.
Even Daniel seemed stunned by the revelation. His mouth hung open, his breathing shallow and rapid.
“She knew?” he whispered.
“Of course she knew, Daniel,” I said softly. “Eleanor doesn't care where the money comes from. She only cares that the people at her bridge club think she’s rich. She used you just like she used Dad. And now, she’s going to let you take the entire fall.”
A knock sounded at the door.
May you like
An aide stuck his head in. “General Hayes, sir. The Carter family—the aunt and the cousin—they’re in the main lobby. They’re causing a massive disturbance. They’re demanding to speak with Colonel Carter, and there are local news cameras arriving at the main gate.”
***
