I ran down the hallway toward the study, Bell and Nathan right behind me.

The study smelled of old paper and expensive tobacco.

On the mahogany desk, a large monitor was pulsing with a blue progress bar.

The text on the screen read: *Wiping Partition 04 – 78% Complete.*

“He initiated a remote wipe from his watch,” the tech agent said, fingers flying over a portable keyboard he had spliced into the system.

“Can you halt it?” I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The data on that partition contained the metallurgical testing reports for the entire Pacific procurement contract.

If those files vanished, we would have no way of proving which submarines were carrying the defective seals.

The progress bar clicked to 82%.

“It’s routed through an offshore proxy,” the agent muttered, sweat breaking out on his forehead. “I need the master bypass code from that physical binder.”

Admiral Bell tore open the black leather binder, flipping rapidly through the plastic sleeves.

My father stood in the doorway, escorted by another agent, a grim, triumphant smile appearing on his lips.