Chapter 3 - The Command Center
While the medics attended to my mother in the kitchen, I returned to the ruined study. My portable uplink terminal lay in pieces on the rug, destroyed by Marcus’s boot.
“Admiral, we have a secondary encrypted comms unit in the command vehicle outside,” Agent Miller reported, stepping over Marcus, who was still secured on the floor, listening to every word with growing horror. “The Joint Chiefs are holding on the line. The maritime situation has escalated.”
“Bring the unit in here,” I commanded. “Set it up on the desk.”
Within three minutes, a high-tech, military-grade communications suite was erected right in the middle of Marcus’s tacky, wood-paneled den. I sat in his leather chair, placed the earpiece in my ear, and authenticated my voice print.
“Vance here,” I said, my tone shifting into pure operational focus.
“Admiral,” the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs replied, his voice crisp. “We heard the breach code. Is your location secure?”
“Location is secure, sir. A local domestic disturbance has been neutralized by the detail. Returning to the primary objective. What is the status of the hostile vessel in Sector Four?”
For the next twenty minutes, I ran a highly classified, multi-national military interception from my stepfather's desk. I issued orders to naval destroyers in the Pacific, authorized live-fire warning shots, and coordinated with NATO allies. I spoke of fleet maneuvers, satellite tracking, and asset deployment with the ease of someone who commanded tens of thousands of personnel.
On the floor, Marcus lay entirely silent. The psychological devastation was complete. He was a small-town bully who used a badge to terrorize his wife, suddenly forced to watch the stepdaughter he had relentlessly mocked wield the power of the United States Armed Forces.
When the operation concluded successfully, I signed off and removed the earpiece.
Marcus looked up at me, his eyes bloodshot, his face pale. “You... you’re a General? An Admiral?”
“I command the Pacific Naval Intelligence Fleet,” I said, my voice cold and flat. “And you, Marcus, are a coward who hits women.”
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“I’m a cop!” he hissed, desperately trying to salvage some shred of his shattered ego. “You can’t just come in here and do this! This is my jurisdiction!”
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on his desk. “You have no jurisdiction anymore. In fact, by the time the sun comes up, you won't even have a career.”
