Chapter 13
The rain drummed a frantic rhythm against the corrugated tin roof of the warehouse.
Victoria’s fingers finally made contact with the cold metal latches of the briefcase.
She flipped them open with a sharp, echoing snap.
Inside, resting in custom-cut black foam, lay a battered orange flight-recorder cylinder with a thick cable connection port.
"Is this genuine?" Victoria whispered, looking up at Captain Miller.
"I kept it hidden in the bilge of my fishing boat for three decades," Miller said, pulling his hand from his parka to scratch the stubble on his jaw.
"Your father paid me twenty thousand dollars to burn it.
I bought the boat instead, and I carried the guilt every day since."
Martha stepped closer to the table, her glowing blue eyes reflecting the orange casing of the recorder.
"Plug it in," Martha instructed softly.
"Listen to the men your father sacrificed."
Victoria reached into the side pocket of the briefcase and pulled out the proprietary interface cable.
She plugged it into a ruggedized military-grade laptop sitting nearby on the table.
The laptop screen flickered to life, displaying an audio waveform software interface.
Miller clicked the import button.
A thick, jagged audio wave populated the screen.
"Press play," Martha said.
Victoria pressed the spacebar with a trembling finger.
The warehouse speakers hissed with static, followed by the distant, muffled sound of rushing water and metallic groaning.
Then, a man's voice came through the speaker—clear, panicked, and unmistakably her father’s voice.
"Seal the aft bulkhead! I don't care who is still in the compartment, lock it down or we all go down!"
A woman's voice screamed in the background—a voice that sounded so much like Clara’s description that Victoria felt the air leave her lungs.
"Admiral! My team is still inside! Open the hatch!"
Then came the heavy, mechanical thud of a hydraulic locking bolt sliding into place, followed by the deafening roar of compressed water imploding a steel compartment.
Victoria slumped against the edge of the table, tears finally spilling over her lashes as the brutal reality washed over her.
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"He murdered them," Victoria choked out, her hands gripping the wooden table edge.
"He murdered them to save his own commission."
