Chapter 6 - What Was Inside the Combine
The combine was older than my marriage.
I had repaired almost every component.
Almost.
Beneath the alternator housing was a welded steel plate I had always assumed was structural.
Keene’s technicians scanned it.
Hollow.
They cut it open.
Inside was a waterproof cylinder.
Nine years hidden inside agricultural machinery.
My five-hundred-dollar alternator had accidentally exposed a secret worth far more.
Keene opened the cylinder at a federal field office.
Inside were three encrypted drives.
A military identification card.
Elias Voss.
And a photograph.
Voss standing beside three men.
One was a defense contractor.
One was a senator.
The third was Russell Cobb.
Rusty.
The tavern owner.
My friend for eight years.
“No.”
Keene placed the photograph under better light.
Younger.
Less gray.
But Rusty.
I drove toward the Iron Horse before she could stop me.
Federal agents followed.
The tavern was closed.
Rusty sat alone behind the bar.
He did not look surprised.
“You found it.”
My anger vanished.
Something colder replaced it.
“You knew.”
“I knew there was something.”
“You sold me the farm.”
“Yes.”
Rusty had arranged the sale through an intermediary.
“Why?”
“Voss asked me to.”
My hand tightened.
“You knew Voss?”
“He saved my life.”
“When?”
“Before you knew him.”
Rusty had served as an intelligence logistics specialist.
After leaving government work, he became Voss’s civilian contact.
“Is he alive?”
Rusty looked toward Keene.
“That depends who’s asking.”
“Me.”
“Yes.”
The word landed harder than Trent’s punch.
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why fake his death?”
“He discovered Black Cedar was compromised before your team arrived.”
“Then why send us?”
“He didn’t.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Your orders were altered.”
Keene stepped closer.
“By whom?”
Rusty looked toward the photograph.
“The man whose company supplied the technology.”
Defense contractor Nathan Cole.
A billionaire.
National security donor.
Untouchable.
Or supposedly.
“Voss tried to abort the mission,” Rusty continued. “Someone blocked his transmission.”
“Why didn’t he tell us?”
“He intended to.”
“What happened?”
“The warehouse explosion.”
I remembered flames.
Screaming.
Voss disappearing.
Rusty poured himself a drink but didn’t touch it.
“Voss survived.”
“Then why abandon us?”
“He believed one member of your team had betrayed him.”
My chest tightened.
“Who?”
Rusty looked at me.
“He thought it was you.”
Silence.
Then Keene’s phone rang.
She listened.
Her face changed.
“What?”
She looked directly at me.
“Trent Larson disappeared twenty minutes ago.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Because his livestream account wasn’t his.”
Keene turned her screen around.
The account had been created nine months earlier.
Registered through a shell company.
Owned by Nathan Cole.
May you like
The fight had never gone viral by accident.
Someone had been waiting for me to step onto those mats.
