Page 34 of Anchor
Before he could speak, a knock sounded at the door. Martin Bailey entered, crisp in a dark suit, a file in hand. He nodded once at Claire, then placed the folder on the table before Ian.
“Fresh from Intelligence,” he said. “It can’t wait.”
Ian flipped it open. Claire watched his face change, his control unbroken, but he swallowed, quick and tight. He closed the folder, fingers pressing to the cover. “Martin,” he said, voice even, “summon Reid. Now.”
Her stomach knotted.
Ian opened the file again, his voice calm but carrying steel. “Your name, Claire, has appeared in an intelligence brief. Not in passing. It shows a direct association. The anomaly you discovered at NSA two years ago wasn’t random. It was a crack in the wall. A flaw someone embedded and left behind. And now, someone knows it was you who found it.”
Claire’s breath stilled. Every muscle in her body screamed to move, to deny it, but all she managed was a whisper. “That puts me in danger.”
Ian closed the file fully, eyes meeting hers. “It changes everything.”
The door opened again with Martin returning, his voice low. “Reid’s being brought up.”
Ian nodded, then turned to Claire. “In fifteen minutes, we meet in the briefing room. I want the board present and at the table. Killian and Noah too.” He rose. “Until then, breathe. Because once this begins, there is no stepping back.”
TWELVE
EXECUTIVE SUITE BRIEFING ROOM – 2042 HOURS
The briefing room was a pressure chamber. Claire felt it as soon as she stepped inside.
All the seats around a long oval table were filled with board members: Ian at the head, Killian Moynihan to his right, Noah next to him, and Martin Bailey with his ever-present file. Reid slid in across from her, his presence steady but formal now, like the man she’d glimpsed during the day had been tucked away beneath steel.
She scanned the room. Some board members appeared via digital connection, having returned to their branches following the gala.
Julian Dupart from San Diego had a sharp, calculating gaze, flicking over her like she was a puzzle. Troy Bremen, also from San Diego, leaned back, listening. Zach Wentworth sat still, measured, his focus cutting straight to her. And Wes Crockett’s eyes were different than the others: softer, concern threaded with something heavier, older. She didn’t know why until the look lingered—a history he wasn’t voicing.
Ian cleared his throat, drawing attention back to the head of the table. “You’ve all seen the brief. Claire Bowman flagged a code anomaly two years ago as an NSA analyst. Her alert was dismissed, sanitized, and buried along with the anomaly. She left after aformaldebrief.”
Several board members shifted. Ian didn’t need to explain whatformalmeant in their circles.
“But tonight,” he continued, “our intel confirmed it wasn’t nothing. It was a planted echo—foreign in origin. Likely hostile. And now, her name is attached to it.”
The silence landed like a stone.
Wes was first to speak, voice cautious. “That paints a target.”
Julian leaned forward, skeptical. “Or it points us toward a target where there isn’t one. A ghost doesn’t always mean a hunter.”
Zach’s jaw tightened. “And yet her name is in the new drop. Someone put it there. That’s not chance.”
Troy’s fingers tapped once against the table, then stilled. “If it’s who we think… there are no accidents.”
Ian let the murmurs ripple, then raised a hand. His next words dropped like a gavel. “Lucien Vos.”
The room went still.
Claire’s breath caught.Vos. She’d heard the name before somewhere back in NSA corridors, whispers half buried under years of silence.
Across the table, Bruce Steele, infrastructure director, shifted, brow furrowed.
“Could this be connected to Heather Bowman?” he asked. “If memory serves, she flagged an internal breach protocol override ten years ago. It was sealed under joint-agency clearance. Just… disappeared.”
Ian nodded once. “It’s possible. Claire never mentioned her mother’s case, but the timestamps align. Pattern’s the same. The signal’s cleaner now, but the framework matches.
Which brings us to confirmation.” He nodded to Rich.
