“What committee?” I asked.

“Just wait for me, Eleanor,” he said, and the line went dead.

I closed the laptop and waited, every shadow in the basement seeming to stretch toward me.

Twenty minutes later, the heavy door at the top of the stairs creaked open.

Slow, deliberate footsteps descended the concrete steps.

I stood up, my hand slipping inside my coat where my phone was.

General Albright stepped into the light of the archive room, his uniform slightly disheveled.

His eyes were bloodshot, and he had a dark folder tucked under his arm.

“Show me,” he said, walking to my desk without greeting me.

I opened the laptop and displayed the wire transfers.

He stared at the screen for a long time, his jaw working as he read the names of the shell companies.

He didn’t say a word as he scrolled through the signatures.

“This is treason,” he finally whispered.

“It’s murder,” I corrected him.

He looked at me, and for the first time, I saw hesitation in the old soldier’s eyes.

“Eleanor,” he said, his voice dropping low. “This isn’t just about Cole anymore.”