“His father was threatened with a tax audit,” Mara said. “He chose to send his son to a civilian university instead.”

The rain smeared the red taillights of the truck ahead of us.

I felt a cold emptiness opening up in my chest.

“What about the Pentagon?” I asked. “My transfer to the Joint Staff was approved by the Secretary.”

“The Secretary was acting on a recommendation from a committee,” Mara said.

“A committee chaired by Harlan Voss,” I said, the realization hitting me.

“Yes,” Mara said. “They needed you in the logistics division.”

“Why logistics?” I asked.

“Because Project Cadence required the transport of classified biological materials,” Mara said. “Materials that had to bypass standard customs inspections.”

“They used my signature,” I said. “My clearance.”

“You signed the manifests because you believed they were standard medical supplies for overseas garrisons,” Mara said.

I leaned my head against the cold glass of the window.

“Every evaluation,” I whispered. “Every commendation.”

“They were real achievements, Natalie,” Mara said, her tone softening slightly. “But you were guided into the lane where those achievements would serve them best.”