Chapter 23 - The Shadow Directorate
"Stand back," General Holloway warned, drawing his sidearm as the terminal blinked to life, its amber CRT monitor humming with a high-pitched electronic whine that set Evelyn’s teeth on edge.
"No," Evelyn said, stepping past him into the pit. The mud pulled at her combat boots, but she barely felt it. She stared down at the screen. A single prompt flickered against the darkness:
`PROJECT ARCHANGEL: BIOMETRIC IDENTIFICATION REQUIRED.`
`SUBJECT: PRIMARY HEIR.`
"Archangel wasn't a defense contractor project," Holloway murmured behind her, his hand trembling slightly against his weapon. "In 1984, the Joint Chiefs authorized a top-secret black fund to monitor rogue elements inside the military-industrial complex. Your father was appointed its sole director. When the Soviet Union fell, Archangel held the blackmail files, shell accounts, and surveillance intercepts on every corrupt general, senator, and CEO who traded American blood for corporate stock."
"And Meridian?" Evelyn asked, her throat dry.
"Meridian was the cleanup crew," Holloway said. "A private syndicate created by men inside the Pentagon who realized Samuel had compiled enough evidence to dismantle the entire defense establishment. They tried to buy him. When he refused, they hunted him."
"Then why stage his death?" Evelyn demanded, looking around the subterranean tomb. "Why make me and Richard believe he died of cancer in a hospice ward? Why let Richard believe he had to build a corrupt empire just to survive our father’s legacy?"
"Because as long as Samuel Hayes was dead," a voice echoed from the edge of the pit, "Meridian stopped hunting his children."
Evelyn spun around, bringing her rifle to her shoulder in a fraction of a second.
Standing at the entrance of the canvas tent, flanked by three men wearing black tactical uniforms and suppressed carbines, was Colonel Donald Vance—the decorated intelligence officer who had overseen Richard’s transfer from Wallens Ridge. His uniform was immaculate, but his eyes were cold as frozen glass.
"Lower the weapon, Captain Hayes," Vance said calmly, stepping under the shelter. "You’ve done remarkably well following the breadcrumbs Richard left you. But you didn't dig this grave to find your father. You dug it because you wanted answers. Unfortunately, those answers belong to the United States Department of Defense."
"You work for Meridian," Evelyn spat, her crosshairs aligned squarely with his chest.
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"I *am* Meridian, Captain," Vance smiled thinly. "And that terminal you're standing on controls the private keys to two point four trillion dollars in off-book foreign military sales. Move away from the console. Now."
***
