Chapter 16 - The Visitor Behind Glass
The visiting room of the federal detention facility smelled intensely of industrial disinfectant and stale black coffee. The walls were cinder-block grey, divided down the middle by a thick sheet of reinforced ballistic glass, with heavy steel telephones mounted on either side for communication.
I sat down on the bolted metal stool, adjusting my tailored wool coat, my reflection staring back at me faintly through the glass. A moment later, a heavy metal door at the opposite end slammed open, and two guards escorted Ethan into the room.
He looked unrecognizable. The immaculate, tailor-made navy suits and designer ties were gone, replaced by a coarse orange jumpsuit bearing inmate numbers across the chest. His hair was unkempt, dark stubble shadowed his hollow cheeks, and the arrogance that had once defined his posture had collapsed into a hollow, broken slouch.
The guards pushed him gently onto the stool opposite mine. Ethan picked up the heavy plastic telephone receiver with trembling hands. I slowly lifted mine, placing it against my ear.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Ethan stared at me through the glass, his bloodshot eyes swimming with a pathetic mix of desperation and lingering resentment.
'You look well, Claire,' Ethan’s voice rasped thinly through the speaker, distorted by the poor analog connection. 'Power suits you. It always did.'
'Save the small talk, Ethan,' I replied, my voice calm, steady, and entirely devoid of emotion. 'Warden Miller said you requested this meeting. You have five minutes before I walk out.'
Ethan swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He leaned closer to the glass, lowering his voice. 'I know about Bellum Veritas, Claire. I know what they’re planning.'
My eyes narrowed slightly, though my posture remained relaxed. 'Bellum Veritas was dismantled when Henderson was arrested and their Zurich proxy servers were raided.'
'That’s what you think!' Ethan whispered frantically, his eyes darting nervously toward the security camera hovering in the corner of the room. 'Henderson was just a regional coordinator. The syndicate... they’ve been operating for decades across three continents. They didn't just want our naval logistics data. They have a secondary operative embedded even deeper within Cole Meridian.'
I studied his face, searching for any sign of manipulation or a desperate bluff. 'Who?'
Ethan hesitated, his hands gripping the edges of the metal table so tightly his knuckles turned white. 'I’ll tell you... but you have to promise me something in return.'
A cold, cynical smile touched my lips. 'You are in an orange jumpsuit facing thirty years in federal prison for grand larceny, forgery, and corporate treason, Ethan. You aren't in a position to negotiate terms.'
'Claire, please!' Ethan begged, his voice cracking with genuine panic. 'If you don't find out who it is, they’ll kill you! They don’t leave loose ends! The arrest of Henderson was just a speed bump for them!'
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'If you know something useful, spit it out,' I said sharply. 'If not, I’m hanging up.'
Ethan stared at me through the glass, realizing that his leverage was completely non-existent. He opened his mouth to speak—and then the lights in the entire visiting room suddenly flickered and died.
