Chapter 13 - What Voss Did
Voss admitted part of it.
Years before Black Cedar, he worked with Walter Cole.
Not knowingly as a criminal.
At least that was his claim.
Walter provided intelligence about stolen defense technology.
Voss believed him.
Then Thomas Hale appeared with evidence that Walter himself controlled the theft network.
“My father told you?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t believe him.”
“No.”
That single word carried twenty years of consequences.
Voss designed Black Cedar using Walter’s intelligence.
By the time he realized the route had been manipulated, the operation was already underway.
“So Nathan wasn’t lying.”
“He was lying about my intent.”
“Ben is still dead.”
Voss looked down.
“Yes.”
Mike stood in the doorway.
“So am I, technically.”
Nobody laughed.
Voss had spent nine years trying to repair his mistake.
He hid Mike.
Protected Thomas.
Placed me on the farm containing the drives.
“Why me?”
“Because Walter believed you knew nothing.”
“I did know nothing.”
“Exactly.”
My ignorance had been security.
My poverty had been camouflage.
My broken marriage had made me isolated.
Suddenly I understood why Voss had warned Emily away.
“You turned my entire life into cover.”
“I kept you alive.”
“Those aren’t the same thing.”
He had no answer.
Then Keene received a location.
Walter’s vehicle had been spotted near an abandoned missile-testing facility in eastern Colorado.
Thomas might be there.
Federal teams moved.
I wanted to go.
Keene refused.
Voss supported her.
I went anyway.
Some habits survive rank.
The facility looked empty.
Then we found my father.
Alive.
Bound to a chair.
Older than any version of him in my memories.
He looked at me.
“Clay?”
Twenty-four years disappeared.
I could not answer.
We freed him.
Then alarms sounded.
Walter’s voice came through an overhead speaker.
“Family reunion.”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“He wants the coin.”
“No.”
My father looked at me.
“The coin isn’t just a key.”
“What is it?”
“The metal itself.”
A microscopic pattern had been engraved beneath the trident.
Part of a cryptographic sequence.
Walter needed it to unlock the ledger.
“Where is Walter?”
Thomas looked upward.
“He never left.”
Lights died.
Doors sealed.
Then Walter stepped onto an overhead walkway.
The kind old veteran was gone.
“Clayton.”
I stared up.
“You should’ve stayed a farmer.”
“I was trying.”
He smiled.
“Give me the coin.”
“No.”
Walter raised a remote.
A countdown appeared on an industrial control panel.
Keene shouted:
“Explosives!”
Walter backed toward an exit.
Then my father grabbed my arm.
“Let him go.”
“What?”
“He thinks the ledger is here.”
“It isn’t?”
Thomas shook his head.
“Where is it?”
He looked at me.
“Inside the $500 alternator.”
I froze.
The broken combine part.
The reason I entered the tavern.
The object I had removed and left on my barn workbench.
Walter had engineered the failure because he believed the machine held evidence.
May you like
But he had searched the wrong component.
And someone was currently driving toward my unguarded farm.
