Chapter 5 - Family Secrets
The ringing in Eleanor’s ears gradually subsided, replaced by the steady, hollow drip of water against the cold concrete floor. The explosion had scorched the outer layer of the blast door, but the reinforced alloy held. Still, the face she had glimpsed through the reinforced viewport chilled her blood far deeper than the winter damp of the tunnel.
Marcus Vance.
Her late husband’s brother. A man who had vanished from the naval command structure eight years ago, supposedly reassigned to a black-budget logistics division in Europe. Now, he was standing on civilian soil, directing a wet-work team aimed at eliminating his own niece.
"Captain, we have to keep moving!" Lieutenant Miller's voice pulled her back to the present. He was twenty yards ahead, his weapon drawn, guiding the nurse who was struggling to push the gurney along the abandoned maintenance tracks.
Eleanor pushed herself up from the damp floor, checking her weapon. Twelve rounds left in the magazine. One in the chamber. She turned her glare toward Julian, who was cowering against the curved masonry wall, shivering uncontrollably.
"Marcus Vance," Eleanor said, her voice dripping with dangerous intent. She closed the distance between them in three long strides, grabbing Julian by his throat and shoving his head back against the cold brickwork. "Why is Marcus Vance involved in your father's business?"
"I don't know!" Julian choked out, his eyes bulging as he clawed at her iron grip. "I swear to God, I don't know who that is!"
"Lie to me again and I will leave you behind this blast door with a broken knee," Eleanor snarled, tightening her fingers until Julian's gasp turned into a wheeze. "Your father doesn't have the clearance to hire former Naval Special Warfare operators. That wasn't a civilian hit squad. That was Unit Seven. Marcus runs Unit Seven. What did Abigail find?"
Julian’s face flushed purple. "The... the shipping manifests!" he blurted out, tears mixing with the dried blood on his cheeks. "Abby was working on the Pacific fleet logistics audit. She found out the Sterling containers weren't carrying agricultural equipment. They were carrying automated military-grade microprocessors... diverted from the naval depot in San Diego."
Eleanor’s mind raced, connecting the terrifying puzzle. Arthur Sterling wasn't just a corrupt politician lining his pockets with real estate kickbacks. He was the civilian front for a treasonous pipeline, smuggling advanced military hardware out of federal supply chains and onto foreign container ships. And Marcus Vance was the inside man within the Pentagon, masking the audits.
Abigail hadn't slipped down the stairs in a tragic domestic dispute. She had uncovered her own father-in-law's treason, only to realize her uncle was the architect of the entire operation.
"She confronted you, didn't she?" Eleanor asked, her voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. "She came home with the manifest printouts, thinking you were innocent. Thinking you would protect her."
Julian couldn't meet her eyes. He looked down, sobbing quietly. "I didn't mean to hurt her... I told her to give them to me! I told her my father would fix it! But she called me a traitor... she reached for her phone to call naval intelligence, and I... I panicked. I shoved her. She hit the edge of the marble table."
"And then you called your father," Eleanor said, disgust curdling in her gut. "And your father called Marcus."
"Marcus said she couldn't leave the hospital alive," Julian wept. "He said if the naval audit went to the Joint Chiefs, we would all hang for treason. He told me to let the doctor handle it. I didn't want her to die! I love her!"
"You don't love her," Eleanor said coldly, releasing his neck so abruptly that he slumped into the mud at the base of the tracks. "You loved her security clearance. You loved using her last name as a shield to deflect scrutiny from your father’s shell companies."
She turned away, disgusted, and caught up with Miller and the gurney.
Abigail was semi-conscious now. Her hand, bruised and pale, reached out into the empty air, searching. Eleanor caught it instantly, squeezing tight.
"Mom..." Abigail’s voice was barely an exhale, raspy from the oxygen mask. "Uncle Marcus... he’s... he’s here."
"I know, baby. I know," Eleanor said gently, smoothing the damp hair from her daughter's forehead. "Rest. I have the watch."
"No... you don't understand," Abigail whispered, her hazel eyes wide with genuine panic. "He didn't just want the files... he wanted the authentication codes. The ones Dad left me in his trust."
Eleanor froze.
Her late husband, Commander David Vance, hadn't died in a routine training accident in the Persian Gulf five years ago, had he? The realization struck her like a physical blow. David had been the lead cryptologic officer for the Pacific command.
Before Eleanor could process the horror of that thought, a rhythmic, mechanical clatter echoed down the tunnel from ahead of them.
Not from behind. From ahead.
May you like
Miller raised his weapon, stepping in front of the gurney. "Captain... we have movement at the rail junction. Three hundred yards."
Out of the darkness, two bright high-intensity halogen beams flared to life, blinding them completely. The heavy rumble of a diesel engine roared through the cavern, followed by the distinctive metallic click of an armored vehicle’s turret traversing to lock onto their position.
