“Those missiles are going to a separatist group in the South China Sea,” Elena said, dropping the pretense. “You’re arming enemies of the state, sir. That isn’t a retirement fund. That’s high treason.”
Sterling stopped two feet from her. He smelled of expensive cologne and old scotch.
“Treason is a matter of perspective, Commander. I call it resource reallocation. But that’s not why you’re here.”
The Trap Tightens
Sterling circled her like a shark. “You think you’re noble. You think you’re saving the Navy. But you’re just a cog in a machine you don’t understand. I built this fleet. I kept it running while politicians in D.C. slashed our budgets. I am entitled to my share.”
“You’re entitled to a prison cell,” Elena shot back.
Sterling’s face hardened. The mask of the benevolent leader slipped entirely. “You have spirit. I liked that about you. It’s why I promoted you. But you’ve flown too close to the sun.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter, then picked up the file on his desk. He didn’t burn it. He just held it, tapping the lighter against the paper.
“I have already spoken to the JAG Corps,” Sterling lied, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I told them I discovered a mole in my department. A bright young officer who was selling secrets to the highest bidder. Someone who planted evidence to frame her superiors when she got close to being caught.”
Elena felt the blood drain from her face. He was going to frame her.
“They believe me, of course,” Sterling continued. “Why wouldn’t they? I’m Vice Admiral Sterling. You’re just… expendable.”
