Chapter 7 - The Dossier
Admiral Vance slid a set of black-and-white surveillance photos out of the manila envelope and held them up.
"Chief Reed," Vance said. "We didn't just come to Coronado to debrief my daughter on her counter-espionage mission. We came to relieve you of duty."
Reed froze. "What?"
"These photographs were taken three nights ago outside an unmarked warehouse in Chula Vista," Vance said, his voice ringing across the mess hall like a death sentence. "Four crates of AN/PVS-31 night-vision systems were transferred from a Navy logistics flatbed into a commercial van registered to a shell company in Sonora, Mexico."
Reed’s face drained of every drop of color. The arrogant sneer, the swagger, the intimidating posture—everything crumbled in an instant.
"The driver of that flatbed," Vance continued mercilessly, "was a first-class petty officer under your direct supervision at the armory. And the bank account that received two hundred and forty thousand dollars in cryptocurrency six hours later belongs to your brother-in-law."
"That's a lie," Reed choked out, his voice shaking. "Someone set me up. That's a setup!"
"Lieutenant Commander Vance didn't pick this galley at random today, Chief," Captain Miller added with a grim smile. "She was observing you. She knew you'd be here. She was waiting for the Shore Patrol warrant to clear the federal magistrate's office."
I looked at Reed. "You thought you were flexing your muscle on an easy target because you were feeling the heat. You knew NCIS was sniffing around the armory. You were spiraling, losing your temper, looking for someone weak to reassert your dominance over."
I took one step toward him, ignoring the sharp stab in my side.
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"You're not a warrior, Reed. You're a thief with a Trident."
Reed looked like a cornered animal. For a terrifying second, his hand drifted toward the holster on his right hip.
