Chapter 27 - The Hearing
By morning, the country had a new story.
Victor Sloane was missing.
Mara Ellison was accused of sabotage.
The Northstar network had supposedly been dismantled.
It was all a lie.
We were taken into federal custody before noon.
Not arrested.
Protected.
At least that's what they called it.
They separated my mother and Evan.
Mercer was escorted somewhere else.
Torres disappeared.
My father was placed in an isolation room.
I was taken to a hearing room.
Three judges.
Four government attorneys.
Six military observers.
And a wall-sized display.
The first image showed my authorization.
My signature.
My biometric seal.
The lead counsel looked at me.
“Did you authorize the Northstar succession transfer?”
“No.”
“Did you access the system?”
“No.”
“Did you possess the authorization key?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did the system recognize you?”
“Because my blood was stolen.”
A murmur passed through the room.
The attorney didn't react.
“Do you have proof?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“My father.”
He looked at the panel.
“Your father is currently under investigation.”
I stared.
“Then you already know.”
“For the record, your father is not considered a reliable witness.”
I almost laughed.
“Neither am I, apparently.”
He ignored me.
“Did you know Victor Sloane was your biological father?”
I froze.
The room erupted in whispers.
I looked at the audience.
News cameras.
No.
Not cameras.
One live feed.
They had planned this.
The attorney smiled faintly.
“That seems to be a yes.”
I realized what was happening.
This wasn't a hearing.
It was a public trial without a jury.
They wanted me emotional.
Unstable.
Contradictory.
They wanted me to make a mistake.
I took a breath.
“Yes.”
“And you concealed this information.”
“No.”
“You concealed it from federal investigators.”
“I discovered it less than twenty-four hours ago.”
The attorney turned to the panel.
“Convenient.”
I leaned forward.
“You asked me a question.”
He looked at me.
“I answered it.”
Silence.
Then he displayed another document.
My authorization.
This one dated six months earlier.
I stared.
“That isn't mine.”
“It's your signature.”
“It's forged.”
“Your biometric confirmation is present.”
I looked at the document.
Then at the judges.
“Then somebody has access to my biological profile.”
“Possibly.”
“Who?”
“We're investigating.”
I almost smiled.
“Then investigate Sloane.”
“We cannot locate him.”
“Of course you can't.”
One judge leaned forward.
“You're becoming hostile.”
“No.”
I looked directly at him.
“I'm becoming tired.”
The door opened.
Mercer entered.
Two guards behind him.
My heart jumped.
He looked at me.
Then at the judges.
“I need to testify.”
The lead counsel frowned.
“You're not scheduled.”
“I know.”
He walked forward.
“I'll testify voluntarily.”
The judge asked, “About what?”
“About who ordered the operation.”
Every eye turned toward him.
Mercer took a folder from his coat.
“I have communications proving Victor Sloane wasn't acting alone.”
The attorney stood.
“Those materials are classified.”
“They're evidence.”
“You're in violation of—”
Mercer placed the folder on the table.
“Then arrest me.”
Silence.
I stared at him.
Inside the folder was a list.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Orders.
And one name appeared again and again.
GABRIEL ELLISON.
My father's name.
My heart sank.
The attorney looked at me.
“Your father wasn't protecting you.”
I stared at the list.
“He was managing you.”
“No.”
Mercer looked at me.
“Mara.”
I turned toward him.
He shook his head.
“Read the dates.”
I did.
The first order was twenty-three years ago.
The last was three days ago.
My father's signature appeared beside each one.
My throat tightened.
“You lied.”
Mercer said nothing.
“You all lied.”
The hearing was suspended.
I was taken back to the holding room.
An hour later, my father was brought in.
He sat across from me.
I pushed the folder toward him.
“Explain.”
He looked at the documents.
“Yes.”
“You ordered the surveillance.”
“Yes.”
“You monitored me.”
“Yes.”
“You kept files on me.”
“Yes.”
“You manipulated my assignments.”
“Yes.”
I stared.
“Were you ever my father?”
His eyes filled with tears.
“Every day.”
“Then why does it say here that I was an asset?”
“Because Northstar required a designation.”
“I was your daughter.”
“I know.”
“You called me a subject.”
“I had to.”
“You didn't have to.”
He looked at me.
“You are right.”
That hurt.
Because he didn't defend himself.
I whispered, “What else?”
He swallowed.
“I lied about Sloane.”
“That's obvious.”
“I lied about Evan.”
“I know.”
“I lied about your mother.”
“I know.”
His voice cracked.
“But the worst lie is still ahead.”
I stared.
“What?”
He reached into his coat.
He pulled out a small photograph.
It showed my grandfather.
Standing beside a younger Victor Sloane.
And between them was my father.
On the back was a handwritten sentence.
THREE FOUNDERS.
ONE HEIR.
I looked at him.
“You were one of the founders.”
“Yes.”
“And Sloane.”
“Yes.”
“My grandfather.”
“Yes.”
“Then who was the third?”
He looked at me.
“You.”
I felt my blood go cold.
“That makes no sense.”
He whispered,
“You were born with the genetic key they needed.”
The door behind him opened.
A guard shouted.
“Everybody down!”
The lights exploded.
The photograph fell from my hand.
May you like
And someone screamed from the hallway.
“Sloane is inside.”
