Chapter 16 - THE CONFRONTATION AT OFFICE 314
Blake’s hand froze over the phone receiver.
Slowly, methodically, he hung up the telephone handset, his fingers remaining glued to the plastic base. He didn't reach for the drawer where his service sidearm was stored; he knew better than to make sudden movements in the presence of an operator who had bypassed two security checkpoints without triggering a single motion sensor.
He turned his head slowly, looking into the dark corner of his office.
Maya Vance sat in the high-backed leather chair, her dark grey jacket damp from the rain, her hands resting loosely on her knees. Her suppressed pistol lay flat across her lap, its dark steel barrel pointed directly at his chest.
Standing beside the window, his rugged silhouette framed by the flashing lightning outside, was Marcus Kane.
"Maya," Blake said, his voice regaining its practiced, political composure within seconds. "I should have known Vance wouldn't keep you on a short leash for long."
"My father doesn't hold my leash, Colonel," Maya said, her voice completely flat. "He just covers my tracks when people like you try to sell my team to foreign contractors."
Blake let out a short, dry laugh, leaning back in his leather chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Sell your team? Don't be naive, Maya. Division Four was a black-budget liability the moment the Senate committee started auditing off-the-books operations in Erbil. You were ghosts. Dead men walking on government time. I didn't sell your roster... I monetized an asset that was already scheduled for destruction."
Kane took two steps toward the mahogany desk, his heavy boots making no sound against the thick carpet.
"You took forty million dollars from Apex Security," Kane said, setting the encrypted steel flash drive onto the mahogany desk between them. "Forty million dollars to execute twelve retired operators who bled for this country while you sat behind a desk in D.C. signing purchase orders."
Blake looked at the small steel flash drive, a faint, condescending smile touching his lips. "You think that drive matters, Kane? You think you can take that to a court-martial? Every transaction was authorized under an executive clearance code stamped by the Undersecretary of Defense. In thirty minutes, my transfer unit will arrive to sweep this building. You have no jurisdiction here."
Maya stood up from the leather chair.
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The movement was so smooth, so weightless, that Blake’s eyes couldn't track her transition from sitting to standing. In a fraction of a second, she was standing directly in front of his desk, her pistol held at a low-ready position.
"You're right, Colonel," Maya whispered, leaning forward until her face was inches from his. "We don't have jurisdiction. We're Division Four."
