Page 55 of Ground Zero
He already knew what they’d find. Part of him didn’t want to see it, didn’t want to face reality.
The document filled the screen—bank transfers totaling over two million dollars, all linked to an account with his social security number. The dates aligned perfectly with the cyberattacks.
Anyone looking at this would see ironclad proof of his guilt.
“This is . . .” Maverick ran his hand through his hair, his mind racing through the implications. “Sheridan, if you turn this in, I’m finished. No jury in the world would look at this evidence and see anything but treason.”
“I know.” Her voice sounded soft, understanding.
With growing dread, he clicked through the other files. The Naval Station access codes were for areas he’d never even been cleared to enter—the submarine pens, nuclear ordnance storage, the communications center.
Whoever had planted this had current, high-level access to Norfolk’s most secure areas. The base did use contractors—and those people had to be vetted. But someone was smart enough to know how to work the system.
“These aren’t just some random access codes.” He pointed at the screen. “These are for the most sensitive areas of Naval Station Norfolk. The submarine maintenance bays where they service the nuclear fleet. The weapons depot where they store Tomahawk missiles.”
Sheridan leaned closer, studying the data. “So whoever planted this?—”
“Has legitimate access to these areas. Or knows someone who does.” Maverick’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t just about framing me anymore. Someone’s planning to use these access points for the Ground Zero attack.”
He thought about the encrypted messages they’d decoded earlier.
Primary target: Naval Station Norfolk.
Less than forty-eight hours now until whatever Sigma had planned.
This was entirely more serious than he’d ever imagined. And it still wasn’t clear exactly what these people intended to do.
CHAPTER 31
“We have to warn them,” Sheridan stated.
Maverick glanced at her, his thoughts still churning. “How are we supposed to do that? Walk into Norfolk’s security office with evidence that makes me look like a terrorist? They’d arrest me on sight.”
“Then we go through official channels?—”
“Which channels? The FBI that has at least one mole? Blackout, where someone on my own team is setting me up?” He pushed back from the table, frustration burning in his chest. “Every legitimate avenue we have is compromised.”
Maverick stood and paced to the window, checking the street outside out of habit. His mind spun through possibilities, options, trying to find a way through this maze of betrayal and deception.
Then a thought struck him.
“Wait.” He turned back to Sheridan. “I might know someone. Trey Franklin. We served together in Afghanistan. He’s stationed at Norfolk now, works for base security.”
She stared at him, concern in her gaze. “Can you trust him?”
“He saved my life twice in Kandahar. I saved his three times.” Maverick pulled out his phone, then hesitated. “But contacting him means potentially exposing our location.”
“It’s a risk,” Sheridan agreed, remaining in her seat. “But Trey might be our only shot at getting someone on the inside to take this seriously.”
Maverick stared at his phone, weighing the options. Trey was solid, trustworthy, and completely outside the Blackout-FBI circle that had been compromised. But reaching out meant potentially putting his friend in danger.
The weight of it settled over them both.
The attack on Naval Station Norfolk wasn’t just imminent. The gun was already loaded.
Now they were just waiting for someone to pull the trigger.
Sheridan watched Maverick pace the small living room, his phone still clutched in his hand. A war played out on his face—the need to act versus the risk of exposure.
