Chương 5
The repetition was not reasonable. Neither was the anger in it. That made it honest.
Evelyn set down the coffee. “I wrote to you.”
“When?”
“Six times.”
“I didn’t get anything.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because the envelopes came back unopened from an address that didn’t exist.”
Daniel stared at her. “I was in San Diego.”
“The Navy told me you had separated.”
“I reenlisted.”
“Then somebody wanted us apart.”
He stood and walked to the window. His shoulders rose and fell.
“I testified against you,” he said.
Evelyn had known. Seeing the words leave him was different.
“You testified to what you saw.”
“I said you delayed the seal order.”
“I did.”
“I said you left the bridge without transferring command properly.”
“I did.”
“I said you seemed disoriented.”
“I had second-degree burns and smoke inhalation.”
“I didn’t know that when I said it.”
“Yes, you did.”
He turned.
Evelyn kept her voice level. “You held the torch while Ortega cut my uniform away.”
Daniel looked as though she had struck him.
“I was told the burns happened after the evacuation,” he said.
“You saw them happen.”
“I saw smoke. I saw you fall. I saw—” He stopped, pressing his thumb into his palm. “Kessler showed me the timeline. He said if I didn’t cooperate, they would charge Ortega with disobeying orders and me with abandoning my station.”
“Ortega was dead.”
“They could still take his benefits from his wife. That’s what Kessler said.”
“He lied.”
“I know that now.”
Evelyn leaned back. The dressing pulled across her shoulder. “Why are you here tonight?”
“Vane invited me.”
The answer chilled her more than the rest.
“Why?”
“He said the gala would include a private recognition for survivors.”
“Did anyone contact you before this afternoon?”
“A woman from the Harrington Foundation. She asked whether I planned to speak to the press.”
“Did she give a name?”
“Lauren Pike.”
Celeste’s chief of staff.
Daniel reached into his pocket, stopped, and looked toward the recorder.
“It’s off,” Evelyn said.
He removed a folded business card.
On the back, in blue ink, someone had written a room number at the Harbor Regent Hotel and a time: 11:30 p.m.
“Who gave you this?”
“A waiter. Twenty minutes before the blouse tore.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing. He put it under my glass.”
“You were going to go?”
“I don’t know.”
“That means yes.”
His mouth tightened. “I thought it might be someone from the crew.”
“It could be.”
“Or a trap.”
“Yes.”
“You sound pleased.”
“I’m not pleased.”
“You used to look like that when something was dangerous.”
“Like what?”
“Alive.”
The word hung between them.
Evelyn stood too quickly. The room shifted, then steadied.
“We tell Ruiz.”
Daniel’s hand closed over the card. “What if they cancel when they see federal agents?”
“What if you go alone and disappear?”
“I’m not an ensign anymore.”
“No. You’re a lieutenant who accepted a secret meeting from a waiter at a gala honoring the man under investigation.”
His face hardened. “You don’t get to command me.”
Evelyn heard the old authority in her own voice and hated it. “You’re right.”
He seemed more unsettled by the apology than the order.
She held out her hand. “But you came to show me the card.”
After a long pause, Daniel gave it to her.
At 11:26 p.m., Daniel entered room 814 of the Harbor Regent wearing a concealed transmitter authorized by NCIS. Evelyn watched from an adjoining surveillance room with Agent Ruiz and two technicians.
The person waiting inside was not a survivor.
Lauren Pike stood near the window in a gray business suit, holding a hotel ice bucket against her chest as if she had forgotten why she picked it up. She was thirty-four, had worked for Celeste for five years, and looked profoundly unhappy to see Daniel.
“You brought someone,” she said.
Daniel closed the door. “Why would you assume that?”
“Because you’re not stupid.”
“You invited me through a waiter.”
“I panicked.”
“About what?”
Lauren placed the bucket on the desk. Ice shifted inside it.
“I need to know whether Captain Harrington has the bridge archive.”
Daniel’s eyes flicked toward the wall, almost imperceptibly.
Ruiz whispered, “Good. Don’t answer.”
Daniel said, “Which archive?”
Lauren laughed once. “I don’t have time.”
“You booked the room.”
“I didn’t book it. The foundation did.”
“Celeste?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Lauren looked at the door. “Senator Vane’s office.”
Ruiz leaned toward the microphone.
Daniel asked, “Why would Vane care about a bridge archive?”
“Because the public version is missing seven minutes.”
Evelyn felt the room narrow.
The official recording of the Resolute disaster had been released to the investigative board with an unexplained interruption between 0236 and 0243. The gap covered Evelyn’s entry into the crawlspace and the failed manual release.
Daniel said, “Everyone knows the recording was damaged.”
“No, everyone was told it was damaged.”
“You have the missing section?”
Lauren shook her head. “I know where it was.”
“Where?”
“Harrington Defense received a duplicate before the board did. An automated redundancy package went to the contractor’s incident response server because their hardware was involved.”
“That sounds illegal.”
“It was in the service agreement.”
“Then why didn’t investigators get it?”
“They did. Not the original.”
Evelyn looked at Ruiz.
Ruiz was already writing.
Daniel moved closer to Lauren. “Who altered it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why are we here?”
“Because I saw Celeste’s father and Senator Vane arguing about it.”
“When?”
“Two days after the fire.”
“Where?”
“On the Harrington yacht.”
The ice in the bucket cracked softly.
Lauren rubbed her thumb along the edge of the desk. “Mr. Harrington kept an offline archive in the yacht office. He didn’t trust the company network. Vane wanted the duplicate destroyed. Harrington said it was insurance.”
“Insurance against whom?”
“Vane.”
Daniel’s face remained controlled. “Why tell me?”
“Because tonight Mr. Harrington looked at Vane when the mechanism came out. Vane looked at me.”
May you like
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
Lauren swallowed. “I moved the archive.”
