Chapter 7 - THE GENERAL’S LAST SECRETVictor Shaw was found inside his Virginia home at 5:12 the next morning.
At first glance, it looked like suicide.
A gun.
A note.
Locked study.
But investigators noticed two things.
Victor Shaw was left-handed.
The weapon was beside his right hand.
And his home-security system had been disabled remotely twenty-three minutes before his estimated time of death.
Rebecca sat in silence when Monroe told her.
Victor had been her mentor.
Once.
Whatever corruption came later could not erase memories of the man who had guided her through the hardest years of her career.
That betrayal hurt in a different place than Preston’s violence.
Preston was a monster she had come to understand.
Victor had been trusted.
“He knew,” Rebecca said.
Monroe nodded.
“He appears to have been involved.”
“Involved is a polite word.”
“We’re still determining how far.”
Daniel entered carrying his laptop.
“I may know.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I rested for four hours. It was terrible.”
“Daniel.”
“Mom.”
Claire almost smiled.
Daniel opened the computer.
“Before my kidnapping, I found references to something called Project Lantern.”
Rebecca recognized nothing.
Daniel continued.
“It appears in offshore-payment descriptions going back eight years.”
Monroe leaned closer.
“What is Lantern?”
“I don’t know. But Shaw received money after every major Briar contract.”
Rebecca studied the records.
Dates.
Amounts.
Initials.
Then one notation appeared.
R.L. REVIEW — HANDLE THROUGH V.S.
Rebecca’s initials.
Her stomach tightened.
“They were using Victor to manipulate me.”
“How?” Claire asked.
Rebecca remembered.
Eight years earlier, Briar Defense had competed for its first major Army contract.
Rebecca had served on a technical review board.
She had raised concerns about reliability testing.
Victor called her.
Not officially.
As a mentor.
He told her Briar had corrected the problems.
Told her she was being overly cautious.
Told her another delay could jeopardize field operations.
She had trusted him.
She changed her recommendation from “hold” to “conditional approval.”
Rebecca stared at the screen.
“I helped them.”
Claire immediately said, “You didn’t know.”
“I signed it.”
“Because someone lied to you.”
“I signed it.”
Monroe sat opposite Rebecca.
“And now you’re helping expose it.”
Rebecca looked away.
The hardest part of command had never been punishing other people’s mistakes.
It was living with your own.
A federal search of Shaw’s house uncovered an encrypted laptop.
Inside was a folder labeled LANTERN.
The contents transformed the case.
Project Lantern was not one bribe.
It was a network.
Executives.
Former military officers.
Consultants.
Procurement specialists.
Political donors.
The network steered government contracts toward selected companies in exchange for money routed through foundations and overseas investments.
Briar Defense was merely one company.
Whitmore Capital sat at the center.
Charles Whitmore had spent more than a decade building a machine that turned influence into contracts and contracts into more influence.
But there was something even worse.
Shaw had kept notes.
He was preparing to cooperate.
Two days before his death, he had written:
C.W. becoming unstable. P.W. problem escalating. Claire knows too much. Lawson may discover Lantern. Need immunity before they silence me.
Rebecca stared at the sentence.
“Victor was afraid Charles would kill him.”
Monroe nodded.
“And he was right.”
Another note referenced a place called Blackridge.
Daniel searched corporate records.
Blackridge Farm belonged to a land-holding company controlled by Whitmore Capital.
Three hundred acres near the South Carolina border.
Evelyn Whitmore claimed she had never heard of it.
Nobody believed her.
Agents arrived that afternoon.
The property looked abandoned.
An old farmhouse.
Two barns.
A private landing strip.
And a freshly disturbed section of earth behind the second barn.
Rebecca was not there.
Monroe later told her what they found.
A burned laptop.
Boxes of financial documents.
Destroyed phones.
The missing red toolbox from Rebecca’s garage.
And beneath several feet of soil, a metal drum.
Inside were belongings.
Women’s belongings.
A bracelet.
A purse.
Identification cards.
Several phones.
No bodies.
But among the items was the purse of a woman named Melissa Crane.
Melissa had been a Whitmore Capital receptionist twelve years earlier.
She disappeared after accusing Charles Whitmore of assault.
A second phone belonged to Leah Brooks, a former Briar Defense engineer who vanished three years earlier.
The same engineer whose internal quality reports appeared on Claire’s flash drive.
The investigation was no longer solely about assault, fraud, and obstruction.
The possibility of murder entered the room.
Claire became pale when she heard.
“How many?”
“We don’t know,” Monroe said.
“And Preston?”
“Still missing.”
“Charles?”
“Still missing.”
Claire wrapped her arms around herself.
Rebecca reached for her.
Claire shook her head slightly.
Not rejecting her.
Thinking.
“He has a boat.”
“Who?”
“Preston.”
Monroe leaned forward.
“What boat?”
“He told me he sold it two years ago.”
“What kind?”
“A yacht. Forty-five feet.”
“Name?”
Claire frowned.
“It used to be called Evelyn Rose.”
Daniel opened his laptop.
“Registered owner?”
“Preston.”
“Not anymore,” Claire said. “He told me Charles made him sell it after some tax issue.”
Daniel typed.
Then stopped.
“Found it.”
Everyone looked over.
The yacht had been transferred to a shell corporation.
The shell corporation was controlled by a trust.
The trust’s attorney had worked for Whitmore Capital.
Monroe called the Coast Guard.
The boat’s transponder had been inactive for six months.
But marina cameras showed it departing Charleston shortly after midnight.
Two men boarded.
Image enhancement identified one.
Preston Whitmore.
The second wore a baseball cap.
Likely Charles.
“They’re leaving the country,” Claire whispered.
“Possibly,” Monroe said.
Rebecca watched the footage.
Something bothered her.
Preston carried one suitcase.
Charles carried nothing.
“Go back.”
Daniel replayed it.
Rebecca pointed.
“Look at Preston.”
“What?”
“He keeps checking behind him.”
Claire leaned closer.
“He looks scared.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Of his father?”
“No.”
She studied the image again.
“Of someone else.”
At that moment, Monroe received a call from the Coast Guard.
She listened.
Then looked up.
“The yacht has been found.”
“Where?”
“Thirty miles offshore.”
Claire stood.
“Are they aboard?”
Monroe paused.
“One person is.”
“Who?”
“Preston.”
Rebecca stared.
“And Charles?”
“Not there.”
“Is Preston alive?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Monroe’s face was grim.
“He’s been shot.”
Claire sat down.
Nobody said anything.
Monroe continued.
“He’s conscious.”
Rebecca looked at her daughter.
Claire’s expression contained no satisfaction.
Only exhaustion.
May you like
Then Monroe added:
“And he’s asking for you, Claire.”
