“Make it forty,” Vanessa said. “To be safe.”

The sound of heavy, mechanical breathing followed through the radio link before another click cut the audio.

“Understood,” Cole’s voice answered in the final second of the file. “We will report the interference at dawn.”

I pressed the stop button.

The red light on the recorder went dark.

The silence in the room was heavy, pressing down on all of us.

Albright did not move.

His gaze remained fixed on the scratched silver metal of the unit.

“That is a fabrication,” Cole said, though his voice lacked its usual force.

“It is a highly sophisticated digital edit,” Vanessa added, her voice rising an octave.

“General, you cannot possibly accept this as evidence.”

Albright raised his hand, a single gesture that cut her off instantly.

“I know your voice, Major Cross,” Albright said softly.

“And I know the Colonel’s.”

He looked up, his eyes cold.

“Merritt.”

“Sir,” the captain responded, shifting his weight.

“Secure the device.”

Merritt stepped forward and picked up the recorder, slipping it into his breast pocket.

“Call the duty officer at the Navy Yard,” Albright commanded.