Chapter 8 - The Internal Threat
Thick smoke poured into the communications bunker as the heavy steel doors crashed to the floor.
I immediately pushed Abigail under the heavy metal console desk and drew my backup weapon.
I expected to see the Fergusons' private mercenaries storming into the room.
Instead, a squad of elite U.S. Army Military Police rushed in with their rifles aimed directly at us.
"Stand down, Colonel Gardner, you are relieved of your command!" a harsh voice barked through the smoke.
General Thomas Vance, my direct superior officer and a man I had trusted for twenty years, strode into the bunker.
"What is the meaning of this, General?" I demanded, keeping my weapon lowered but firmly gripped.
Vance looked at the wall of monitors broadcasting the Fergusons' downfall and sneered.
"You went rogue, Rachel, and you conducted an unauthorized cyber-attack on American citizens," he accused.
"Those citizens are committing treason, and you know it," I fired back, standing my ground.
Vance stepped closer, lowering his voice so his men could not hear him.
"The drone navigation codes they are selling are incredibly profitable for everyone involved, Rachel," he whispered coldly.
My stomach dropped as the horrifying truth finally became clear.
The Fergusons were incredibly powerful, but they were just wealthy civilian brokers.
General Vance was the corrupt military insider supplying them with the highly classified drone technology.
"You are going to be court-martialed for treason, and your daughter will be sent back to her husband," Vance threatened.
He reached out to grab my weapon.
I did not hesitate for a fraction of a second.
I grabbed his wrist, twisted it sharply, and drove my knee directly into his chest.
Vance collapsed to the floor, gasping for air as I aimed my weapon at his head.
His military police squad immediately raised their rifles, laser sights dancing across my chest.
"If you pull that trigger, Colonel, my men will execute you and your daughter," Vance wheezed from the floor.
May you like
"They won't have to," a calm, commanding voice echoed from the ruined doorway.
An older man wearing a perfectly tailored suit and carrying a leather briefcase stepped into the bunker.
