“The scandal would tear the command structure apart.”

He looked down at the glowing laptop screen, where the wire transfer amounts glared back in bright green columns.

“They are offering me a quiet retirement, Eleanor,” he whispered.

“A third star on my retirement board, and a seat on the board of a logistics firm in Virginia.”

“And if you refuse?” I asked.

Albright looked toward the heavy steel door of the archive.

“They will transfer the file to a closed-door subcommittee,” he said.

“The records will be classified under National Security Directive 84.”

“Even I won’t have clearance to view them anymore.”

“And Cole?”

“Cole will be reassigned to a liaison post in Brussels,” Albright said.

“Out of reach. Out of mind.”

I felt a cold knot form in my stomach.

“We can’t let that happen,” I said.

“My husband killed four men in that valley to cover up the failure of those guidance systems.”

“He used my name, my signatures, to clear the shipping manifests.”

“I am not going to federal prison to save his career or the committee’s budget.”