Chapter 19 - The Enemy Inside the Hangar
The autonomous recovery initiative had brought together military personnel, civilian engineers, software developers, and private-sector contractors.
Most were hardworking professionals dedicated to improving aviation safety.
But Daniel's warning meant that someone inside the program might be connected to Nathan Cole's disappearance.
I didn't know whether the information was accurate.
And I refused to accuse innocent people without evidence.
Commander Whitcomb agreed.
"We'll verify his statement," she told me. "Until then, treat it as an investigative lead."
That was easier said than done.
Every morning, I walked into the research hangar surrounded by familiar faces.
Dr. Michael Chen, the lead systems engineer, who had spent six months arguing with me about predictive landing models.
Lieutenant Rebecca Shaw, a brilliant junior officer who considered every technical disagreement a personal challenge.
Thomas Wexler, the civilian program administrator who managed contractor access and procurement documentation.
And Dr. Elena Ruiz, a software architect whose algorithms had already corrected several dangerous simulation errors.
Any one of them might have information relevant to the investigation.
But suspicion wasn't proof.
For three days, the work continued under tightened security procedures.
Then the first anomaly appeared.
During a controlled simulator exercise, the recovery system suddenly displayed a false deck-motion prediction.
The simulated aircraft descended too rapidly.
The landing sequence failed.
Dr. Chen stared at the results.
"That's impossible."
I stepped beside him.
"Run it again."
He did.
The second trial was normal.
So was the third.
The fourth produced the same dangerous deviation.
Chen frowned.
"Something is altering the input parameters."
"Software error?"
"Possibly. But the pattern doesn't resemble an ordinary processing fault."
We suspended the affected testing sequence and notified the program's security and safety teams.
By evening, an authorized technical review identified unauthorized modifications in a restricted configuration repository.
Someone had altered the model used during testing.
No operational aircraft had been affected.
But the implications were serious.
The system wasn't simply malfunctioning.
It appeared to have been deliberately manipulated.
The investigation narrowed toward individuals with authorized access to the affected files.
Wexler's name appeared on the preliminary access report.
I remembered him as a meticulous administrator who wore expensive glasses and carried a leather notebook everywhere.
He had once brought homemade cookies to the hangar after an overnight testing shift.
Now investigators were examining his credentials and access history.
At five that afternoon, I saw him standing beside the parking lot.
He looked pale.
"Commander Peterson," he called.
I stopped at a respectful distance.
"Mr. Wexler."
"Could I speak with you?"
"About what?"
He glanced toward the hangar.
"Something isn't right with the project."
"Then report it to security."
"I tried."
"When?"
"Two weeks ago."
"What happened?"
He swallowed.
"My supervisor told me I was misunderstanding the records."
"Which records?"
Wexler looked toward the security camera mounted above the entrance.
"Contractor credential assignments. Someone was using access that shouldn't have existed."
I felt my pulse quicken.
"Have you told investigators?"
"Not yet."
"Then let's go inside together."
He shook his head.
"I'm afraid."
"Of what?"
His voice dropped.
"They know where my daughter goes to school."
The statement stopped me cold.
Before I could respond, a security officer approached.
"Commander, Mr. Wexler, please remain here."
Wexler stepped backward.
His expression became frantic.
"No. No, you don't understand."
He turned and ran.
The security officer shouted for him to stop.
I stayed back and immediately called Whitcomb.
Within minutes, security personnel located Wexler near the service entrance.
He surrendered without resistance.
During a voluntary preliminary interview, he disclosed something that changed the investigation.
He claimed Gregory Vale had pressured him to approve fraudulent access credentials.
He also said an unknown individual had demanded detailed schedules for my work at the hangar.
"Who?" investigators asked.
Wexler shook his head.
"I never saw his face."
"Did he give a name?"
"No."
"How did he contact you?"
"Through a secure messaging account."
"Do you still have the messages?"
Wexler nodded.
Then he said something that made the investigators exchange glances.
"He kept asking about one particular person."
"Commander Peterson?"
"No."
Wexler's hands trembled.
"Admiral Mercer."
That evening, Whitcomb called me.
The recovered communications contained a chilling instruction.
KEEP MERCER AWAY FROM THE FINAL DEMONSTRATION.
I looked toward Ethan, who was reviewing financial documents at our dining table.
The program's final demonstration was scheduled in nine days.
Mercer planned to attend.
May you like
So did several senior naval officials.
And according to the threatening messages, someone wanted the admiral removed from the room before the technology was tested.
