Chapter 11 - Thirty Seconds of Air
Olivia climbed onto the chair and ripped the vent cover loose.
Cold air moved weakly through the duct.
"Colonel, up."
"You're smaller. You first."
"That's not how command works."
"Today it is."
Hale boosted her into the duct, then followed with more effort than his pride appreciated.
Behind them, the archive disappeared beneath white suppressant fog.
They crawled twenty yards before Olivia kicked through a maintenance grille into a utility room.
Hale dropped beside her, coughing.
"I officially hate archives."
Olivia was already on her phone.
The suppression activation required executive authorization.
The system log showed Major Ward.
Ward arrived furious five minutes later.
"I did not trigger anything."
"Someone used your credential," Olivia said.
"Again?"
"That's the pattern. They steal identities, not just equipment."
Ortiz called from supply control.
"I found something. Every cloned credential was created within forty-eight hours of the real user entering headquarters conference room B."
Hale frowned. "That's where senior briefings happen."
Olivia understood.
"The table."
They swept the room.
Underneath the conference table they found a wafer-thin device attached beside the power rail.
It had been silently copying wireless authentication handshakes for months.
Ward stared at it. "Who has unrestricted access to this room?"
Ortiz checked the schedule.
Command staff.
Facilities.
And one executive aide assigned directly to General Voss.
Lieutenant Caleb Shaw.
They found Shaw's quarters empty.
His closet was stripped.
His car was gone.
But he had left one envelope on the desk.
Olivia's name was written across the front.
Inside was a single photograph.
Daniel Mitchell and Elias Voss, twelve years younger, standing beside a warehouse.
May you like
On the back, her father had written:
IF ELIAS EVER SAYS I WAS WRONG, ASK HIM ABOUT BAY 17.
