Admiral David Mercer stopped three paces from where Julian Vance stood in his cashmere overcoat.
He did not look at the private security guards whose hands were frozen against their holsters.
The four-star Admiral snapped his polished heels together with an audible *CRACK* against the hardwood floorboards, turned forty-five degrees toward the stairs, and brought his right hand up to an unyielding, razor-sharp military salute:
“Colonel on deck,” Admiral Mercer boomed.
His voice was sixty decibels of mountain quarry explosive, reverberating through the empty house like heavy naval artillery:
“Colonel Clara Eleanor Mercer.”
“Director of Special Infrastructure Interdiction.”
“The eight-year sovereign watch is concluded.”
“The master escrow ledger is verified.”
“And Conduit Ten… holds true.”
General Eleanor Mercer stepped from the cabinet, carrying an immaculate, tailored **Navy Auxiliary Officer Service Uniform**—the midnight-blue wool jacket pristine, the solid-silver cast eagles of a **Full Colonel in the United States Army** gleaming on the shoulder epaulets, four dense rows of combat decorations covering the left breast: the Legion of Merit with two oak leaf clusters, the Bronze Star Medal with Combat ‘V’ device, the Defense Superior Service Medal, and the Combat Action Ribbon.
