Chương 6
“Yes.”
“Just checking.”
Helen assigned Mara temporary control of the room’s physical security. Hale objected.
Not loudly.
That somehow made the objection heavier.
“You’re placing a commander emotionally connected to the historical material in charge of evidence involving that material.”
Mara looked at him.
He was right.
She hated him for being right.
Helen knew it too.
“I’m placing Commander Vance in charge of physical access because she is the person who prevented the destruction of the evidence.”
“That does not remove the conflict.”
“No.”
Helen looked at Mara.
“Do not access Amaranth material if it appears. Owen documents it, seals it, and we let the investigative team handle it.”
Mara’s first instinct was anger.
Her second was worse.
Relief.
“All right.”
Rourke smiled faintly.
“What?”
Mara asked.
“Nothing.”
“Say it.”
“You look disappointed.”
She walked toward him.
He straightened.
She stopped a few feet away.
“You think I want a file to tell me Daniel’s death wasn’t my responsibility.”
Rourke’s expression shifted.
“I think everybody wants a file like that.”
The answer disarmed her more effectively than an insult.
He looked at the floor.
“My wife left me partly because I kept waiting for one.”
Nobody asked what file he meant.
For the next hour, the bunker became quiet in the wrong way.
The storm remained violent above them, but underground the alarms were gone. Server fans hummed. The glass table displayed weather tracks and emergency base status. The disconnected JANUS relay sat dark behind security glass.
Mara checked Rourke’s cuffs and eventually moved them to the front after he complained about his shoulder. She did not uncuff him.
Helen removed her jacket, folded it badly over the back of a chair, then refolded it after staring at the first attempt.
Owen worked through logs.
Hale drank stale coffee.
At 0018, he tried to throw the cup away and missed the trash can.
The paper cup landed on its side.
He stared at it.
Then he bent down, picked it up, and put it in properly.
Mara found the movement more upsetting than anything he had said.
At 0037, Owen spoke.
“I found the trigger.”
Everyone looked up.
He turned one monitor toward the room.
“No data contents. Just command history.”
Mara stayed several feet away.
“What does it say?”
“The unauthorized query at 2214 wasn’t issued through Mercer’s review credentials.”
Hale stood.
“You said—”
“I said it presented as her review credentials.”
Owen pointed at a timestamp.
“The request was wrapped in a legacy JANUS service token.”
Rourke swore.
Helen said, “Explain.”
“Someone used old internal authority to make the query look external.”
“Someone already inside JANUS.”
“Yes.”
Hale leaned toward the monitor.
“Which token?”
Owen hesitated.
“J-4 administrative.”
Hale went still.
Rourke whispered, “That’s impossible.”
Mara looked at him.
“Why?”
“J-4 was retired.”
“So was JANUS.”
“No.” Rourke shook his head. “I mean retired retired. Keys destroyed. Hardware recalled. Credentials burned.”
Owen tapped the display.
“Apparently not all of them.”
Hale walked away from the terminal.
Mara watched him.
“Who had J-4 authority?”
“Several people.”
“Names.”
“Twenty years ago?”
“Start with the ones alive.”
Hale looked at Helen.
She nodded.
“Do it.”
He gave them five names.
Two were dead.
One had suffered a stroke and had not held clearance in years.
One had retired to Arizona.
The fifth was Grant Hale.
Rourke closed his eyes.
Owen did not look pleased with the discovery.
Helen simply asked, “Could your old credential still exist?”
Hale stared at her.
“I believed it did not.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“Yes.”
“Could you have used it tonight?”
“No.”
“Physically?”
He hesitated.
“Not without hardware I do not possess.”
Mara said, “What hardware?”
“A J-4 authority module.”
“Where would one be?”
“Destroyed.”
Owen made a face.
Hale looked at him.
“You have something to say?”
“Not anymore.”
“Say it.”
Owen glanced at Mara, then back at Hale.
“I was going to say that ‘destroyed’ has had a pretty bad night.”
Rourke laughed.
A real laugh this time.
Helen covered her mouth with one hand, and Mara realized she was trying not to do the same.
Hale did not laugh.
But his shoulders dropped a fraction.
Then Owen found another record.
The J-4 query had originated from inside the bunker.
Not from the server room.
Not from Hale’s terminal.
From an equipment branch connected to the emergency communications rack in the dark corridor beyond the security glass.
The corridor Mara had looked toward when Rourke said the man who gave the order was inside the bunker.
Mara drew her sidearm.
Helen stared at it.
“Is that necessary?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why—”
“Because I’d rather feel stupid with it than smart without it.”
She checked the security feed.
Three corridor cameras were dark.
Not black.
Frozen.
One showed a technician halfway through turning his head. Another showed an empty utility cart. The third displayed the same flicker of red emergency light for forty-three consecutive frames.
Owen whispered, “That’s bad.”
Rourke gave him a look.
“Thank you, analyst.”
Mara moved to the inner door.
Hale stepped toward her.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“I know the communications rack.”
“Owen knows enough to identify it.”
“Owen also has never been shot at.”
Owen looked up.
“That feels unnecessarily personal.”
Mara studied Hale.
“Hands where I can see them.”
His mouth tightened.
“Yes, Commander.”
She almost told him she did not trust him.
There was no need.
Helen stayed with Rourke and Owen remained at the security console.
Mara opened the inner door.
The corridor beyond was narrow, steel-walled, and dim. Red strips reflected on the polished floor. The bunker vibration was stronger there, passing through her boots in a low mechanical tremor.
Hale walked three steps behind her.
They passed the first dead camera.
The communications rack stood behind a locked mesh panel twenty yards ahead.
No one waited beside it.
No assassin.
No saboteur.
May you like
No dramatic figure in the dark.
Just a utility cart with a coil of cable, a half-empty bottle of sports drink, two screwdrivers, and a laminated maintenance checklist.
