I pulled the envelope out and tore it open.
Inside was a stack of financial ledgers. I flipped through them. It was irrefutable, undeniable proof. Bank transfers, classified signatures, dates matching the missing weapons. Sterling’s name was all over it.
Attached to the ledgers was a handwritten note from Richard.
Arthur. If you're reading this, I'm dead, and Sterling took the bait. The box in my hands was a trap. The casket was lead-lined to block the signal until the box was removed. Take the transmitter. Press the button. Clear our names. I'm sorry it took thirty years. I wore your patch so they would know exactly who defeated them.
Tears finally spilled over my eyelashes, cutting warm tracks down my freezing cheeks.
I wiped my face with the sleeve of my coat. I grabbed the black radio transmitter.
I pulled out my cell phone. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely unlock the screen. I dialed the only number I knew by heart, praying she wouldn't send it to voicemail.
The line rang twice.
"Dad?" Clara's voice came through the speaker. She sounded shocked, and incredibly hesitant. "Dad, why are you calling me?"
"Clara, listen to me," I gasped, leaning against the cold marble wall. "I don't have time to explain everything. But I was innocent. Richard proved it. I have the evidence against General Sterling."
"What?" Clara demanded, her journalist instincts instantly flaring over her confusion. "Sterling? Dad, where are you?"
"I'm at Fortress Hill," I said. "I'm going to expose him right now. If anything happens to me, check my cabin. I left copies of the ledgers under the floorboards."
"Dad, stop!" Clara shouted. "I'm at Fortress Hill too! My network sent me to cover the funeral. I'm standing at the press pavilion right now. Do not do anything crazy. The security here is—"
Her voice abruptly cut off.
"Clara?" I yelled into the phone. "Clara!"
There was a scuffling sound on the line, followed by a heavy thud.
Then, a cold, terrifyingly calm voice spoke into the receiver.
"She has your eyes, Arthur."
It was Marcus Sterling.
The bottom fell out of my stomach.
"Sterling," I growled, raw panic clawing at my throat. "If you touch her—"
"I have her, Arthur," Sterling interrupted softly. "My men spotted her in the press pool. She’s standing right next to me behind the main podium. Now listen carefully. You will walk out to the main plaza. You will hand me whatever you just found. If you try to run, or if you cause a scene, my men will put a bullet in her spine, and I will tell the press she was caught in the crossfire of a terrorist attack."
The line went dead.
I lowered the phone, my entire world collapsing into a singular point of absolute terror.
Sterling had my daughter.
I looked at the financial ledgers in my hand. I looked at the black transmitter.
I had the truth. But if I used it, Clara would die.
I tucked the ledgers inside my coat. I gripped the heavy black transmitter in my right hand.
I stepped away from the columbarium and began the long, agonizing walk toward the main amphitheater. I was walking straight into the jaws of a monster, and I had no idea if either of us would survive the afternoon.
The biting December wind whipped violently across the sprawling marble amphitheater of Fortress Hill.
I crested the small ridge overlooking the main ceremonial plaza. The sight below me was staggering. Hundreds of high-ranking military officials, politicians, and foreign dignitaries sat in perfectly arranged rows of folding chairs.
At the front of the crowd, upon a raised stage flanked by enormous American flags, stood General Marcus Sterling.
He was adjusting the microphone at the podium, preparing to deliver the eulogy. Behind him, standing stiffly in the shadows of the monumental pillars, was Clara.
Two of Sterling’s mercenaries, dressed in ceremonial honor guard uniforms, stood directly behind her. One of them had his hand resting casually on Clara’s shoulder, a concealed weapon undoubtedly pressed against her back.
Clara looked terrified. Her eyes scanned the crowd frantically until they locked onto me.
I didn't stop. I didn't hide.