The Athena File

by Jennifer Haynie

  “You can’t hide the truth, Nicole. No matter what, you can’t, even if you think you have.” With that parting taunt, Jonathan stomped upward and into the hot morning toward the administrative building.

  Boss Man waited for him.

  When he arrived, the CEO slammed his door so hard that a commendation from Marine Corps fell from the wall, shattering on the floor. Expletives whistled past like shells going downrange.

  “I’ve had it with you, Ward. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir. But I saw—”

  “I don’t care what you saw.”

  “The pictures—”

  “Didn’t you hear me? I. Don’t. Care. How do I know you didn’t fabricate them? It’s clear to me that your connection to Parker clouded your judgment. You went on a witch hunt. You desperately wanted someone to take the fall, and Chardet made an easy target.”

  “Sir, if I may, you wanted us to work fast. Bryson and I did—”

  “Shut up, Ward. Just shut up. Who searched for the guns?”

  “I did,” he muttered.

  “When I specifically told you to let Bishop do the work to avoid precisely this.” Boss Man leaned with both of his hands on the desk and glared at him. “You are done. Finished. You hear me? This case is closed since it’s clear that you disobeyed a direct order and are biased.”

  “Bryson can finish this.”

  “No, Bishop is done too. You got that? You’re to hand over all evidence to me. All electronic files are to be put on a DVD, removed from the server, and handed off to me. You understand? Hard copies will come to me. The same for him. I want everything.”

  “Sir—”

  “You’re done here at the compound. And I mean done. Off all work. Matter of fact, you’re confined to the compound. Any sign of you leaving, and I’ll have Bishop toss your butt into the brig. I don’t care if you two are good friends. You can stew in your own juices until you leave. And when we get back to Chesapeake, I personally am going to file a complaint with Wyatt Edwards. He’ll have your head for this.”

  “But sir—”

  More expletives flew in his direction. Boss Man pointed at the door. “Get out and stay out. I don’t want to see your butt in this building again until the handover meeting with the new team.”

  Jonathan stared at him for one last, long moment.

  The CEO didn’t break his gaze.

  As if at a formal changing of the guard, he did a crisp about face and crossed to the door in one long stride. His head spun as he stumbled to his room. He collapsed onto the couch.

  He’d been discredited. Somehow, Nicole had found out about his search and had gotten someone—most likely Roy and his cronies—to move the guns. He thought about asking Boss Man to search the remainder of the Women’s Building, but he knew where that would lead.

  Precisely nowhere.

  “God, I was so sure,” he murmured into the stillness. “Where did I go wrong?”

  He lowered his head and rubbed the back of his neck as his thoughts turned to almost seven years ago to the day in 2009 when the Mighty Men had been hit. He’d wondered the same thing then as he’d sat on his bunk that night and relived the horror of watching his ten closest friends die.

  He leaned over and picked up a picture from the half wall that separated the sitting area from the sleeping area. It was of the Mighty Men, taken sometime in Afghanistan shortly before what he called his Hell Year began. Twelve men crouched in a semicircle. All held rifles and wore confident smiles. They knew they were cool.

  Only he and David survived that fateful day.

  Here he was again, having lost something significant—his credibility.

  Unless…

  Nicole’s taunt echoed in his mind. “It’s nice, Ward, to know you think so highly of me as to falsely accuse me of running guns and murdering your girlfriend.”

  His lips turned upward the tiniest bit.

  She had tipped her hand.

  Somehow, she’d learned that he’d suspected the ambush was a case of murder, something he’d revealed only to Boss Man.

  The second thing?

  He still had an ace up his sleeve.

  The jump drive.

  His smile dimmed. Was Boss Man friend or foe? Was he in with Nicole? He was pretty certain he wasn’t and was only a man concerned about a tarnished spot on his record that Jonathan’s discovery had threatened to dirty even further.

  He needed more evidence to convince the CEO.

  Something to show that Nicole was the gunrunner.

  And a murderer.

  The problem was, he had no way to get it now.

  8

  Quantico, Virginia

  “I don’t trust myself anymore.” Abigail moved her rum and Coke in little circles on the dark wood of the bar. Free friend therapy. That’s what she called it. A chance to catch up with her best friend in college while having drinks at her favorite pub near her apartment. The raucous blues music wafting over the speakers fit her mood perfectly.

  Gabrielle Stanton cocked her head as she studied her. “Why do you say that?”

  “Do you know how many dates I’ve been on since Nick and I split?”

  Her friend shrugged.

  “Two.” Abigail held up two fingers. “That’s it.”

  “Have you talked to him at all?”

  “Nick? No way! Uh-uh. The last time we saw each other was January 2010 when he stormed out of the courtroom after our divorce proceedings. He’d moved down to North Carolina and started with the Raleigh Police Department shortly before that. Good thing Raleigh’s a big town.” She sighed. “But seriously, it’s like ever since then, I haven’t trusted my judgment.”

  Over the speakers, the saxophone wailed as if to agree with her. Lost love. She wanted to jump onto the small stage where bands sometimes played and sing her own version of the blues.

  “I think you’re being too hard on yourself.” Gabrielle took a sip of her martini and set it on the bar. “Look. I think you learned something from your time with him.”

  “Yeah, like how to pick cheaters.”

  “Abigail.”

  “Sorry. I know better than to lump all members of the male species into one category. It’s not that I don’t trust them. It’s just that…” She threw her hands into the air. “I don’t know.”

  “Sometimes, you’ve simply got to take the chance. Like with that guy over there.” Gabrielle nodded in the direction of the pool table. “Every opportunity he’s had, he’s been looking this way, and I promise it’s not me he’s interested in.”

  Abigail glanced toward the pool tables, where several guys, Marines it seemed from their haircuts, drank and knocked balls around the table.

  An especially tall specimen of male, with blond hair and muscular build lined up a shot and took it. Once he finished, he turned his attention toward the bar. He winked.

  Her cheeks warmed. “You sure he’s not looking at you?”

  “Hah, I rather doubt it.” Gabrielle grinned. Then she sobered as she refocused her attention on Abigail. “Okay. Here’s a quick story. Shane and I got married twelve years ago, right?”

  “Yeah. I was maid of honor, remember?”

  “Oh, I do. Talk about a fun weekend.” They giggled, and she continued, “I knew I wanted children, but I doubted my abilities, especially since I’d been an only child and had never babysat in my life. I procrastinated for years. Shane, bless him, didn’t push me. Finally, he asked me what I was so scared of. I told him exactly what you said earlier. I didn’t trust myself to be a good mom. That’s when he said something that stuck to me. Essentially, taking a big step like that takes faith. And faith is trust in action. You’re trusting that God will guide you.”

  “But my heart is so deceptive.”

  “That’s why you stay close to God.” Her phone rang, and she glanced at it. “Speak of the munchkins, that’s Shane. Let me say goodnight to the boys. Then we can plan the rest of our weekend. And maybe your man will come over and chat w
hile I’m gone.”

  “He’s not my man…yet,” Abigail added when she realized how Captain Hunk had noted her friend’s departure. She imagined the little report going on in his brain.

  Scout to base. The target is now alone.

  She fought a giggle, especially when the corner of his mouth lifted in a smile.

  Her phone chirped, signaling a text from her brother. After a week of silence, he’d finally written. Her brain made the calculation. He’d written at five in the morning his time.

  “Pray for me,” his message said.

  She paused. What a strange and not-so-strange request, all at the same time. “You know I do,” she typed. “And what are you doing up so early?”

  A few seconds passed before her phone beeped. “Seriously. Things have gotten bad. The convoy was a cover for Christine’s murder. I’ve been discredited.”

  She caught her breath as she digested the message. She tapped out her reply. “I don’t understand.”

  Almost a minute passed, and she imagined him feverishly beating out a response on his phone. “I found guns. So gunrunning. They got wise to me and hid them, which discredited me. Now I’m confined to the compound. Boss Man crushed the investigation.”

  Abigail’s thumbs raced across the screen.

  Another message from Jonathan popped up before she could finish. “I found a jump drive with the guns. It had a file called Athena on it that seems to be a Top Secret Need to Know file. It couldn’t be copied, so I had to keep the drive.”

  Her heart began hammering. “Are you safe?”

  The reply was slow in coming, almost as if he doubted the words he typed. “I believe so. But pray for me.”

  “I will,” she murmured. She typed out, “I love you,” then placed the phone with its blackened screen on the bar. She pressed her fingers to her mouth. Jonathan, please, please stay safe. I wish there was a way I could help, I mean more than praying.

  “You got another Dark Dog IPA?” a deep voice asked.

  She jumped.

  Captain Hunk leaned against the bar and signaled the bartender.

  Abigail ripped her mind back to the present. Oh, yeah. Blue eyes, just like she’d imagined. Her nose twitched at the smell of his cologne. Had she started salivating?

  Down, girl.

  He smiled at her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “No, no. Just…texting with my brother.” A flush started low in her neck.

  “You come here a lot?”

  Oh, boy. This was not the conversation she wanted to have, not after Jonathan’s news. She forced a smile to her face.

  “She does,” Gabrielle said as she joined them. She stuck out her hand. “Gabrielle Stanton. Visiting Abigail here for a girls’ weekend away before my husband and kids get here to look for housing. He’s transferring to Quantico with the Marines.”

  Captain Hunk handed over his credit card to the bartender, then gave her his full attention. “Rick Hamrick. So Abigail, do you have a last name?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Boy, could she sound any dumber? “It’s Ward.”

  “Well, Abigail Ward,” Rick took the receipt and scribbled his signature, chatting while he wrote, “if you’re going to stick around, would you and Gabrielle like to join my buddy and me for a couple of games of pool?”

  “Yes,” Gabrielle answered before Abigail could open her mouth.

  Abigail shot her a dirty look.

  “We’ll be done with our present game in about fifteen.” His gaze never leaving Abigail, he smiled again before swaggering to his table with beer in hand.

  “Way to let me talk.” Abigail scowled.

  “Sorry. I just couldn’t pass up that opportunity for you.” Gabrielle leaned closer. “What’s going on? You look like you wanted to run screaming out the door.”

  “Jonathan texted.” In terse words, she rehashed the conversation.

  “Oh, wow. I’m sorry.” Gabrielle shook her head. “I overstepped, and I apologize. Look. If you want to sneak out, I’m sure we can. It’s not like we’re obligated to pool, especially since I stink at pool.”

  “No, I’m fine.” She sighed and ordered another rum and Coke. “What I’m worried about is how Jonathan came into the possession of a Top Secret file.”

  “Do you think that they’d figure he stole it?”

  “It’s possible. But there’s only one way for that file to be stolen from government servers because there’s so many tripwires and firewalls in place. That’s to have TSNTK clearance. He certainly wouldn’t have that. Nor would any of the gunrunners, most likely, since they’re all civilians. And from what he’s said in the past, no one there is a computer geek.”

  “So someone in the Armed Forces.”

  “Or at least with the needed clearance.” Suddenly, she realized the enormity of what she now knew. “I need to tell Sal.”

  “Who?”

  “Salvador Torres. He’s my CO here at CID. I’m just…I don’t want to get Jonathan in trouble.”

  “I’d say that either way, your brother’s in trouble.”

  “I know.” Abigail rubbed her forehead to erase the frown lines. “I know.”

  Quantico, Virginia

  Monday morning, Abigail slouched at her desk at CID headquarters and scrolled through the news websites. Even after a week and a half, any mention of the hit on the convoy in Afghanistan had faded in the minds of the general public in favor of news about the Kardashians and the ongoing presidential primaries. Of course, the rest of the world wasn’t as intimately familiar with the incident as she was.

  And what could she do about it? Absolutely nothing right now. Jonathan was coming home in a week, and when she headed to Raleigh on leave to see him, they’d sort it out.

  In an effort to dispel her worries, she released a sigh and inhaled the steam from the fresh brew of Kona coffee she’d prepared a few minutes after her arrival. Gabrielle’s words to her before she’d left for work that morning made her smile. “Take each day on faith. If Rick calls you like he promised, great. If not, that’s okay too.”

  “’Tis true, my friend,” Abigail now murmured. Maybe she’d have some news when she met Gabrielle and her family for lunch before they began their house hunt.

  She took a sip of coffee as and turned her thoughts once more to her brother’s predicament. By pilfering a Top Secret file called Athena, he’d put himself square in the middle of a heap of trouble from both the right and the wrong sides of the law.

  She had to tell Sal.

  Leaving her phone on her desk, she rose and headed toward his office. No Sal. She checked her watch. Seeing that it was almost 0745 hours, he was probably preparing for the weekly briefing.

  Bingo.

  She found her CO standing behind the podium of a small auditorium that could hold fifty people. Lieutenant Colonel Salvador Torres frowned as he stared at the laptop and then at the large monitor on the wall. He grunted as he hit several buttons.

  Abigail cleared her throat. “Sir.”

  His dark eyes shot up and met hers. “Abigail, good morning. What do you know about AV equipment?”

  “I wasn’t the class pet in elementary school, so not much.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “The class pets got to be the AV kids.” She stepped around and surveyed the laptop. Its screen glowed with a PowerPoint presentation while the monitor remained blank.

  He laughed. “This has greatly perplexed me.” He hit another key, one which made the presentation go live on the monitor but blacked out the computer’s screen. He sighed and rubbed his hands through his short, dark hair, mussing it in the process. “I’m sorry. You seem like you have something on your mind.”

  “I do. Something came up.” She glanced at the open door. Since it was only 0745 hours, no one had arrived yet. “You know about what happened with the convoy in Ghazni week before last?”

  “You said it was your brother’s company that got hit.”

  “It was.” She
leaned against the table where he’d placed each person’s file of assignments for that week. “Bryson Bishop now works at that compound, and he’s the one who investigated. Apparently, he’s come to the conclusion that the hit was a cover for the murder of Jonathan’s girlfriend.”

  “Bryson Bishop.” His focus not leaving the laptop’s screen, he rubbed his chin. “Why do I know that name?”

  “He was my sergeant here until early 2012 when he mustered out. I recommended to Jonathan that he hire him as the head of security for the compound. I’m sure he’s run a good investigation about the hit because he always did here.”

  “That’s interesting.” He hit a few more keys. He muttered under his breath.

  “Sir, it’s more than that.” She fought the temptation to shut the laptop’s lid to make him pay attention. “Jonathan did find guns. He also found a jump drive with the guns. A file on it, called Athena, had a TSNTK clearance. Do we know anything about that?”

  That got his attention. “Athena, you say?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Something uncurled within her, something she could only term as unease. Why? Was it because Sal had gone from completely distracted to focused within the span of a second? “He said it couldn’t be copied, so he had to take it.”

  “Your brother has the file?”

  She could have sworn his voice rose with the question. “Yes. But he got discredited by the gunrunners. I—I didn’t know if it was something I could help—”

  “It is CID’s case, and you’re to leave it alone.”

  “But, sir, I’m available, and—”

  Sal slammed the lid. “Didn’t you hear me? I’ve already assigned this to the Computer Crimes Unit. They’ll handle it.”

  “I can—”

  “Don’t you have enough work to do already?” Anger hardened his voice. “From what I remember, I’ve yet to see your AAR from Georgia. Plus a few others. And you have leave in a week.”

  “I know, but from what it sounds like, this is important. What’s it about?”

  “Abigail!” He advanced on her. “Listen to me. I said that the case has been assigned. To someone else, that is. I appreciate the information, but I want you to stand down. You understand?” His fine, very lightly accented English ripped into her like bullets. “You are to let CCU handle it. I don’t even want you asking Al, Mark, or anyone else about it. If I hear you have, I will consider that in direct disobedience to my order, and I don’t think you want that in your file, now do you?”