Cole stopped when he saw me.

“Eleanor,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

“Sit down, Colonel,” Albright said.

The authority in Albright’s voice was absolute.

Cole took a seat at the center of the table.

Vanessa sat two chairs away from him, refusing to look in his direction.

A civilian lawyer in a gray suit sat beside Cole.

“We are on the record,” Albright said, gesturing to the stenographer in the corner.

The civilian prosecutor stepped forward, holding a thick blue folder.

“Colonel Cole Harrington,” the prosecutor began, his voice flat.

“Major Vanessa Cross.”

“You have been brought before this committee to be served with formal charges.”

Cole leaned forward, his hands flat on the mahogany table.

“This is a administrative overreach,” Cole said.

“I have served this country for twenty-five years.”

“You served yourself, Colonel,” Albright said, his voice cold.

The prosecutor opened the folder.

“Charge one,” the prosecutor read. “Conspiracy to defraud the United States.”

“In that you did, in conjunction with Major Vanessa Cross, divert over twelve million dollars in tactical logistics funds to private accounts.”

“Charge two,” the prosecutor continued. “Dereliction of duty.”