Chapter 17 - The Woman at My Desk
The Pentagon security system recognized her before it recognized me.
By the time Ruiz drove us toward Washington, my access badge had been disabled, my military email had been locked, and an emergency notice had been sent declaring Lieutenant Colonel Kelsey Morgan mentally unstable and wanted for the murder of Major General Evelyn Cross.
Cross sat alive in federal custody thirty feet behind us.
That did not matter.
Gray Lantern had prepared the story first.
Colonel Hale used an old secure line to contact Brigadier General Marcus Bell, one of the few officers he still trusted. Bell agreed to meet us in an underground parking level away from cameras.
He arrived with three military police officers.
All three raised their weapons at me.
Bell looked sick.
“Kelsey, someone wearing your face entered your office twenty-seven minutes ago. She used your biometrics, signed two transfer orders, and accessed the continuity command archive.”
“What did she take?”
“A list of protected witnesses connected to procurement investigations.”
Mom closed her eyes.
“The surviving Gray Lantern witnesses.”
Dad stepped forward. “She isn’t replacing Kelsey to hide one murder. She’s using Kelsey’s clearance to erase everyone who can testify.”
Bell looked at Dad.
“You’re Thomas Morgan.”
“Officially dead.”
“That seems to be a family habit.”
Ryan, pale from blood loss, leaned against the SUV. “Can we save the sarcasm until after the fake version of my sister finishes killing people?”
Bell gave us one hour.
No official authorization. No records. No guarantee that he would protect us if we failed.
We entered through a service corridor Hale had used years earlier. Mom remained with Ryan and Cross under Ruiz’s guard. Dad came with me because he knew how Gray Lantern operatives moved.
At my office, the door stood open.
The woman sat behind my desk in my uniform.
She had my posture.
My haircut.
Even the small scar near my right eyebrow.
But when she looked up, I knew immediately what Gray Lantern had failed to copy.
She had no anger toward Ryan.
No grief toward Dad.
No fear for Mom.
Only calculation.
“You’re late,” she said in my voice.
I aimed my weapon.
“Stand up.”
She smiled.
“Which one of us do you think the cameras will believe?”
The security monitors behind her showed live footage of me entering the building.
Except the timestamp was from six minutes before I arrived.
She had already replaced the record.
Then Dad whispered behind me.
“Kelsey, look at her left hand.”
A silver ring circled her finger.
Inside it was the same white residue found on Mom’s broken glasses.
The chemical was not poison.
It was a biometric molding compound.
She had not been built over years.
She had been wearing pieces of me.
Before I could move, she pressed a button beneath my desk.
May you like
The office doors sealed.
And every monitor in the room displayed a countdown beside the names of twelve protected witnesses.
