Chapter 23 - The Blueprint of Betrayal
The pages inside the manila folder felt heavy, the ink still crisp despite the damp air of the pump station. I leaned over Ethan’s shoulder, my eyes scanning the technical schematics and financial transfer orders. The sheer scale of the conspiracy made my stomach turn.
"It wasn't a rogue black-budget experiment," I whispered, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. "Project Oberon was a commercial venture from day one. They used Department of Defense funding to build the technology, and then planned to sell the neural-integration patents to the highest bidder on the international market."
"And the congressional inquiry?" Ethan asked, his voice shaking with suppressed rage.
"A managed containment strategy," Chief Miller replied, leaning against the cold concrete wall and lighting his unlit pipe without striking a match, simply chewing on the stem. "The politicians running the hearing are reading from scripts written by Aegis lawyers. By the time the committee finishes its 'investigation,' the patents will have been legally transferred to a shell corporation in the Cayman Islands, and everyone involved will receive a quiet presidential pardon."
"Not if we publish the physical ledgers," I said, tapping the manila folder. "These documents aren't digital. They can't be scrubbed by a cyber-command firewall."
"True," Miller agreed. "Which is why Vance tracked you to your clinic today. He didn't just want the data in the dog's head—he wanted to make sure there were no physical witnesses left who knew about these ledgers."
Ethan straightened up, his eyes locking onto mine with an absolute, terrifying clarity. "Which means Vance knows we're here. Or he will within the hour."
Before Miller could answer, a sharp, metallic screech echoed through the cavernous pump station.
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High up near the vaulted ceiling, one of the thick, grimy glass windows shattered inward as a heavy-duty grappling hook crashed through the frame, trailing a thick nylon rappelling rope that unspooled rapidly toward the concrete floor below.
"Contact!" Ethan shouted, shoving the manila folder into my hands. "Get to the lower drainage exit! Now!"
