Chapter 6 - The Sealed Envelope
The deafening roar of the wind generators filled the stadium, creating a swirling vortex of dust that obscured the distant steel targets. Competitors were frantically adjusting their scope turrets, arguing with their spotters over complex wind-drift charts.
Suddenly, an unmarked military utility vehicle pulled up behind the central command pavilion, its tires crunching heavily over the gravel.
An unfamiliar officer jumped out from the passenger side. He was a tall, stern Navy Captain wearing a crisp service dress uniform, holding a thick, dark manila envelope sealed with heavy red tamper-evident tape and stamped with high-level military classification markings.
The Captain bypassed the armed guards at the perimeter, walking with hurried, aggressive strides straight up the steps of the command platform. He completely ignored Admiral Crawford and walked straight to the Senior Competition Official.
"Special delivery from Pentagon liaison offices," the Captain said, his voice clipped and urgent. "Effective immediately."
The Senior Official blinked in surprise. He took the heavy envelope, looking down at the red wax seals. He slid a thumb beneath the flap, popping the seal, and pulled out the top document.
It was a single sheet of heavy bond paper, bearing the gold embossed emblem of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
The camera angle remained strictly behind the Official's shoulder, ensuring the specific text of the document was completely hidden from view. Only the bold header and a few high-level stamps were briefly visible before he folded the page slightly.
As the Senior Official’s eyes scanned down the first few lines of text, every drop of color drained from his face. His mouth slipped slightly open. His hands began to shake—so subtly that only a close observer would notice the paper fluttering in his grip.
He slowly raised his eyes from the paper. He didn't look at the wind machines. He didn't look at the leaderboard.
He looked directly across the dusty range toward Lane Twelve, where Tara Wells stood quietly waiting beside her ancient rifle case.
Then he looked at Admiral Crawford, who was still smirking beside the rail.
May you like
Very quietly, almost involuntarily, as if the word were a ghost escaping his throat, the Senior Official whispered:
"Angel..."
