He thought his medals made him untouchable, until the woman he’d just struck opened an envelope and found his name inside.

He had laid the approval document on his desk, beside the photographs from the dock. He looked older than he had in the dining hall.

“I signed it,” he said.

“I can see that.”

“I was told the units passed independent tests.”

“Who told you?”

“Captain Pike. The test certificate was attached.”

“Did you see the test results?”

“I saw the certificate.”

Cora sat across from him. Her jaw ached when she spoke.

“That was enough for me, too. Mateo showed me the seal, and I let the launch go with a different case.”

Wren studied her. “We’re both answering questions.”

“Yes. Agent Chen needs this original.”

“She has a copy.”

“She needs to know who handled it and when. She needs your account on record.”

Wren called his assistant and arranged it while Cora watched. Then he asked that an outside reviewer examine his part in the approval. He did not ask Cora to keep their conversation private.

When she left the office, she found Chen waiting in the corridor.

“You heard?” Cora asked.

“He called me himself.”

“What do we have on Pike?”

“His signature on a test certificate. His name on the audio. The service-road logs show a vehicle from his office entered the dock last night.”

“And Reed?”

“His lawyer says he won’t answer questions yet.”

They had evidence of bad equipment, missing cases, and a misleading report. They still needed to show who had moved the beacons and why.

At the electronics lab, Owen had spent the night with the foam scrap recovered from the shed.

“This cutout held an older beacon,” he said. “The casing left a pressure mark. Whoever packed it put a thin cover over the front so it looked like the current model.”

“Would a sailor notice?” Theo asked.

“If they opened the case and lifted it out, yes. Not if they only checked a seal someone had replaced.”

He showed them a second mark on the foam. It matched a battery pack that was years beyond its approved service period.

Cora thought of Mateo opening one case, seeing the wrong number beneath a plate, and insisting they stop.

“Where did the new units go?” she asked.

Chen projected a spreadsheet Owen had helped reconstruct. Over three years, Bellwether had paid for several batches of current-model beacons. The invoices carried Doran’s approval. Storage records listed the units as received. Test certificates signed by Pike’s office declared them ready for use.

But serial numbers from two batches later appeared on sales documents for a private maritime outfitter.

“The outfitter says it bought surplus equipment through Doran’s company,” Chen said. “We’re tracing the sale.”

Theo read the dates. “They sold the good units and put old ones in our cases.”

“That’s our working theory,” Chen said. “We need the devices and the transaction records to prove each transfer.”

A warning sounded on Owen’s console.

A rescue boat had been ordered into the eastern channel. A civilian fishing vessel had reported taking on water, and a three-person crew from Bellwether was preparing to assist.

“Their equipment list includes units from the new shipment,” Owen said.

Chen called harbor operations. “Stop the launch.”

An officer answered. Orders had already been sent to hold any equipment from Bay Six. The boat’s captain reported he had verified his gear from a different storage rack.

Owen pulled up the serial list.

“Wait,” he said. “That rack received six cases from Doran’s contract last month.”

“Tell them to turn back.”

The boat was already outside the harbor.

Cora grabbed the radio microphone. “What’s the fishing vessel’s last position?”

“Eastern channel, near the outer marker,” the officer replied. “Its radio is weak.”

A rescue coordinator took over the call. Another craft with verified gear was being sent to assist. Cora offered the details of the suspect units and stepped back so the coordinator could direct the crews.

Five minutes passed.

Then a voice came over the speaker: “We have the fishing boat in sight. Three people aboard.”

The Bellwether rescue boat’s captain asked to launch his raft alongside the fishing vessel. The sea was rough, and the two boats could not safely come close enough for everyone to step across.

“Check its case before you use it,” Cora told the coordinator.

The captain opened it on camera and read the number beneath its outer plate.

Owen compared it with the record.

“That unit was retired four years ago,” he said.

The coordinator ordered the captain to leave it aboard. A second rescue craft was approaching with a verified raft.

Cora could hear the fishing crew over the radio, shouting that water was rising.

The second craft reached them as their engine stopped. Its crew took all three fishermen aboard. The Bellwether boat followed them back through the channel.

Only when every person was accounted for did Cora sit down.

Theo leaned against the wall. “If Owen hadn’t checked that rack—”

“We did check,” Cora said. “Now every rack needs it.”

Chen’s phone rang. She listened for nearly a minute.

“Doran’s office?” Cora asked.

“Empty. His car’s gone.”

“Where’s Pike?”

“On base. For now.”

The caller said something else. Chen asked for the information twice, then ended the call.

“What?” Wren asked.

“The outfitter gave us a warehouse address for the good beacons Doran sold.”

“That’s evidence.”