Chapter 2 - Flight 317
“Dad.”
Richard stopped.
The emergency lights painted half his face red.
For years Catherine had watched men under investigation make the same mistake.
They believed running began with feet.
It didn't.
Running began with the eyes.
A quick glance toward an exit.
A calculation.
A decision.
Richard had already made his.
“Don't leave,” Catherine said.
“I wasn't.”
“You were.”
He looked offended.
Under different circumstances, the expression would have been almost funny.
“What exactly are you accusing me of?”
“Nothing yet.”
“That word should make me feel better?”
“No.”
Major Mercer returned from the service corridor.
“No sign of Voss.”
“Cameras?”
“Security feed went down with the lights.”
“Convenient.”
“Very.”
Richard shook his head.
“This is insanity.”
Catherine held out her phone.
“Who is the man in this photograph?”
Richard looked.
His reaction lasted less than a second.
But Catherine saw it.
Recognition.
Then control.
“I don't know.”
“You do.”
“I said I don't.”
“You looked at him before you looked at Mom.”
Richard's jaw tightened.
“You've spent too long interrogating people.”
“And you've spent too long assuming I wasn't paying attention.”
Mercer stepped between them slightly, not threatening Richard, simply making it clear Catherine was not standing alone.
Richard hated that.
His company.
His building.
His celebration.
His daughter.
And yet suddenly none of it belonged to him.
“His name,” Catherine said.
Richard looked toward the guests.
“Not here.”
“Then where?”
“My office.”
They took a private elevator to the top floor.
Mercer came with them.
Richard objected.
Catherine ignored him.
His office occupied a corner overlooking the same lawn where the Black Hawk remained parked.
The party guests below had been moved into a secured conference area while military police coordinated with local law enforcement.
Richard walked to his desk.
He did not sit.
Catherine stood opposite him.
“Flight 317.”
Richard exhaled slowly.
“It was your mother's aircraft.”
“I know.”
“She was flying to Norfolk.”
“I know that too.”
“It crashed forty-three minutes after takeoff.”
“I read the report.”
“Then you know everything.”
“No.”
Catherine placed the phone on his desk.
“I know somebody wants me to believe I don't.”
Richard stared at the photograph.
Finally he sat.
The sudden movement aged him.
“He was named Samuel Kane.”
Mercer looked at Catherine.
K.
K-17.
Catherine said nothing.
Richard continued.
“Kane founded a small defense logistics company in the late eighties. Your mother knew him through government contracting.”
“What company?”
“Keystone Strategic.”
Catherine felt her stomach tighten.
Keystone had appeared repeatedly in the K-17 investigation.
Different owners.
Different subsidiaries.
The same pattern.
“Why were you with him and Mom?”
Richard looked toward the window.
“Because Evelyn wanted me to buy his company.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn't trust him.”
“Mom did?”
“At first.”
“What changed?”
Richard's face became distant.
“A week before she died, she came home terrified.”
Catherine remained still.
“She told you why?”
“Not exactly.”
“That's not an answer.”
Richard looked at her.
“She said Kane had shown her something he should never have had.”
“What?”
“Procurement codes. Classified component schedules. Manufacturing tolerances. Information only military contractors with specific clearances could access.”
Mercer frowned.
“That suggests internal compromise.”
Richard nodded.
“Your mother believed someone inside the government was helping him.”
“And you didn't report it?”
“I begged her to.”
“But?”
“She said she needed proof.”
Catherine looked again at the photograph.
“Flight 317.”
Richard closed his eyes.
“She was taking the proof to Norfolk.”
The room went silent.
Catherine's voice became very quiet.
“What proof?”
“I never saw it.”
“You let her get on that plane?”
Richard slammed his hand against the desk.
“You think I haven't asked myself that every day for fourteen years?”
Catherine did not flinch.
“I think you've spent fourteen years pretending Mom's death was a mechanical accident.”
“The investigators said it was.”
“What did you say?”
Richard looked away.
That was answer enough.
“You knew they were wrong.”
“I suspected.”
“You knew.”
“I couldn't prove it.”
“So you stayed quiet.”
“I had two children.”
“You had a murdered wife.”
“And I was afraid I would lose you too!”
The words exploded from him.
Catherine's anger paused.
Richard stood.
“You think courage looks the same for everybody because you've lived your entire adult life in uniform. I didn't have armed security. I didn't have government protection. I had you and Thomas. Somebody had just put my wife into the ground.”
His voice cracked.
“I was terrified.”
For the first time that day, Catherine saw something beneath his pride.
Shame.
It did not erase fourteen years of silence.
But it complicated it.
“What happened to Keystone?”
Richard sat again.
“Kane disappeared.”
“When?”
“Two days after the crash.”
“Dead?”
“Nobody knew.”
Catherine looked at Mercer.
“Run Samuel Kane.”
Mercer stepped away to make the call.
Richard touched the photograph.
“Your mother believed Keystone was selling compromised components back into military supply chains.”
“K-17.”
Richard looked confused.
“What?”
“That's what our current investigation calls it.”
Richard stared at her.
“So it's still happening.”
“Yes.”
“And you were investigating it?”
“Indirectly.”
He gave a bitter laugh.
“Of course you were.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means your mother spent years trying to protect people she would never meet. Then you grew up and did exactly the same thing.”
Catherine almost answered.
Mercer returned first.
“Samuel Kane officially died eleven years ago.”
“Cause?”
“Boat fire off North Carolina. Body never recovered.”
Richard looked toward him.
“He's alive.”
Mercer raised an eyebrow.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because Evelyn told me something the night before she died.”
Catherine waited.
Richard swallowed.
“She said if anything happened to her, never believe Samuel Kane was dead unless I saw the body.”
Mercer's phone buzzed.
He checked it.
His posture changed.
“What?”
“We recovered exterior security footage from a neighboring property.”
“Voss?”
“Maybe.”
He handed Catherine the phone.
The video showed the service side of the building.
Timestamp: six minutes after the blackout.
A man exited the banquet hall.
Not Martin Voss.
The man wore a catering jacket.
He removed it.
Underneath was a dark suit.
Then he looked directly at the security camera.
Catherine's blood went cold.
It was Samuel Kane.
Older.
Gray-haired.
But unmistakably the man from the photograph.
Richard whispered, “My God.”
Kane lifted something toward the camera.
The stolen flash drive.
Then he pointed across the lawn.
Toward the Black Hawk.
Mercer immediately spoke into his radio.
“Secure aircraft. Now.”
Catherine ran for the elevator.
The doors opened.
Inside stood Martin Voss.
Blood covered his shirt.
He stumbled forward.
Catherine caught him.
“Martin.”
His lips trembled.
“He knows.”
“Who?”
Martin grabbed her wrist.
“Kane.”
“We know.”
“No.”
His eyes widened.
“You don't understand.”
“What?”
“Kane didn't steal the drive.”
Catherine stared at him.
Martin struggled for breath.
“I gave it to him.”
Richard stepped closer.
“Why?”
Martin turned toward him.
“Because he threatened Catherine.”
Catherine's grip tightened.
“How?”
Martin began to answer.
Then the elevator doors behind him opened wider.
A second figure stood inside.
A handgun pointed directly at Catherine.
May you like
And the man holding it whispered:
“Admiral Hayes, your mother left you something.”
