The office door burst open. Two agents from Naval Investigations (NCIS) entered, their weapons drawn. Behind them was Colonel Dana Mitchell. She didn’t look at me, only at the Admiral.
“Admiral Callahan,” Colonel Mitchell announced in a grave voice, displaying a sealed order. “Lieutenant Commander Alex Parker has just confirmed that the GPS tracking units Lieutenant Thompson installed on the third shipment, the one this morning, have been detected at the private hangar you own at Hickam Air Force Base. It has been recorded. You are officially under arrest for treason and arms trafficking.”
The Admiral’s jaw dropped. The arrogance vanished, replaced by the horror of a man trapped. His pale face was the only sound in the room. He had reviewed my old files. But he hadn’t reviewed Contingency Alpha, the final bait, prepared only an hour before.
“My uniform,” I said calmly, “will be taken off by the officer assigned to you at the court. Now, be quiet and obey the chain of command, sir.”
