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“Heather is chair of the armed services committee, and she likes asserting that considerable power. What we need to find out is why, all those years ago, she didn’t want Claire to find out what happened to her father. And why Joseph wanted me to make sure Claire was taken care of. I now believe it was more than protecting her from an ice-cold mother.” The tension in Ian’s jaw said louder things.
Kieran said, “And if Claire digs further?”
Ian admitted, “I owe her the truth.”
Reid asked, “What really happened to her father?”
Ian exhaled, his voice flat. “Joseph wasn’t just an envoy to Afghanistan. He worked under joint ops—quiet CIA command in Afghanistan with diplomatic cover. He performed real field activity. He brought Claire with him on some of his diplomatic trips. And when we met, he spoke of her often. She was his pride and joy,” Ian smiled, “his Firefly.
“The day Joseph died, Martin and the rest of my SEAL team were there performing overwatch.”
The room went still.
“In 2002, Joseph introduced me to a man named Lucien Vos at a party in DC. He was charming. Fluent in eight languagesand also in computer code. He was the CIA’s prized asset. And Heather Bowman was taken with him.”
Ian’s tone had sharpened into something colder. “No one realized at the time Vos had flipped. He sold our security infrastructure to third-party states. In addition to money, he had a personal motive. He wanted to fracture the trust network across allied intelligence. It appeared to give him a perverse satisfaction. Joseph discovered his actions, and we tried to stop him.” Ian shook his head. “We failed.”
Martin continued, “In 2003, Team 3 received a sanctioned hit order. Ian had Vos in his sights; I was spotting. With his finger on the trigger, the cancel order came down. Vos, disavowed but alive, disappeared in the wind.”
The air felt thinner.
Ian’s brow rose. “In Kandahar, March 2005, Joseph and I were in a US safehouse, meeting a Taliban defector turned asset. He wanted the US to get his family out. He had six daughters. The RPG came in hot. Joe shoved me. I was trapped under a metal desk. Joe…” he swallowed hard, “… was impaled by a piece of sheet metal. He asked me to protect his Firefly. Before I left Afghanistan, the state department had proof Vos was responsible for the attack.”
Reid’s chest tightened at the way Ian told the story like it was still fresh.
“Heather told Claire it was an IED,” Ian added. “She locked the truth away, including the promise I made to Joseph. She wanted control. At the time, I was more concerned that Claire had what she needed. I realize she was still deprived of what she deserved—love. And now, I’d like to know why. I don’t think it was just for control.”
“Is Vos alive?” Reid asked carefully.
Ian nodded once. “After Joseph’s death, he was captured and sent to Russia in a prisoner exchange. The United States wasn’tthe only nation he pissed off. My last check found no record of his whereabouts. All I know, or Langley knows, is he was released. He’s off-grid. There have been no confirmed sightings.
“But the breach signal tonight may or may not be Vos himself. First, our system flagged the comms block on Reid. That blackout wasn’t random. It was done with the same coding patterns Vos used years ago. Same timing, same backdoor tricks. Then, at the exact same time, three intruders gained physical access to the gala. That’s the part that makes it clear. The digital attack masked the cameras and sensors long enough for them to get inside the service corridor. It may not be Vos’s fingerprint, but it’s at minimum his echo—someone using his methods, maybe someone he trained, or someone working directly under his orders.”
Reid stood straighter now. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and edged with steel. “They cut me off on purpose. Made sure I was deaf and blind while they came straight for Chase, for you, Ian. Vos doesn’t have to be here to make it clear. He still thinks he can walk through our walls. He can’t get that chance again.”
“Does Claire know any of this?” Martin asked.
Ian shook his head. “No. Not yet.”
The room fell silent again.
Kieran said what they were all thinking. “Hanlon, I think you’re on the money. This wasn’t just a breach. It was a warning to you, Ian.”
Ian nodded. “And I think Claire was an innocent bystander.”
SIX
CHASE ANN ARBOR – 0136 HOURS
The gala had wound down to silence, the chandeliers dimmed, the music long gone. From the observation balcony, the city’s lights glittered below.
Reid stepped out into the night air, the heavy door whispering closed behind him. He scanned the wide crescent curve of the terrace. His eyes found her immediately. Claire, draped in shadow and silence, seated in one of the low-backed lounge chairs near the far edge. But she wasn’t alone.
Two Chase Security operators flanked the exit, standing a short distance from her, just inside the shadows cast by the alcove’s overhang. They weren’t speaking. They were watching her and not fooling anyone with the illusion of nonchalance. The kind of presence meant to be unseen while making damn sure everyone knew they were there.
Reid’s stomach gave a small automatic twist. He wasn’t afraid or surprised. He recognized she was being handled. He walked past them without a glance. They didn’t move. Hedoubted they would, unless she tried to jump the railing or make a scene. Still, their presence redefined the quiet.
Claire sat motionless, back slightly curved, elbows resting on the arms of the chair like she’d poured herself into it and didn’t plan on leaving. Her black gown pooled in soft ripples around her legs, more like something spilled than worn. Her bare feet were tucked against the cushion. Her shoes sat discarded at odd angles, toes pointed like they’d been kicked off with intent.
