Chapter 9: Veridian
Warren had the full Veridian Group file spread across the hotel room table by the time I got back.
Fourteen months of Marcus's work.
Printed, cross-referenced, annotated in his handwriting in the margins.
Procurement invoices inflated by thirty to forty percent.
Payments routed through three shell companies before landing in private accounts in the Cayman Islands.
Names, dates, account numbers.
And at the center of it — one name that appeared on every document, every transfer authorization, every shell company registration.
Raymond Cahill.
Not an alias.
Not a front man.
Raymond himself.
"He wasn't just connected to Veridian," I said.
"He built it."
"Marcus believed so," Warren said.
"He had enough to open a formal investigation.
He was two weeks from filing the referral when the mission was called."
I looked at the documents for a long time.
"The mission," I said.
"Was it real?"
"The operational orders were genuine," Warren said carefully.
"But Marcus flagged something in the week before deployment.
He sent me a message — encrypted, brief.
He said someone had accessed his personnel file from outside his chain of command.
He didn't know who.
He asked me to hold the Veridian documents if anything happened."
"And then something happened."
"Yes."
I sat down.
The baby shifted.
I pressed my hand against my side and breathed.
"I need to get these documents to the right people," I said.
"Not JAG.
Not yet.
Someone who can move fast enough to stop Raymond's injunction and open a parallel investigation before he knows it's coming."
"I have a contact at the FBI's financial crimes unit," Warren said.
"He worked with Marcus on a previous case.
He's trustworthy."
"Call him."
While Warren made the call, my phone rang.
Raymond.
I answered.
"I know you went to the house," he said.
His voice was smooth — the voice he used when he was performing calm.
"I know you talked to Harrison.
Whatever you told him, it won't matter.
My attorney files in four hours.
The estate gets frozen.
You get nothing until a court sorts it out, and courts take years.
You're pregnant and you're alone and you don't have the resources for a long fight."
"Is that what you think?" I said.
"I think you're a soldier who's good at following orders," Raymond said.
"This is a different kind of battlefield."
"You're right," I said.
"It is." I looked at the documents on the table.
"Raymond, I want to ask you something directly.
Did you know Marcus was investigating Veridian Group?"
Silence.
Not long silence.
Two seconds, maybe three.
But in two seconds, a person who had nothing to hide would have said *what?* or *what's Veridian?* Raymond said nothing, and then he said:
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Okay," I said.
"Then you won't mind if I share some documents with the FBI."
The line went dead.
Warren looked up from his own call.
"My contact can be here by six," he said.
May you like
"Good." I set my phone down.
"Raymond just confirmed everything."
