Read Operation Zulu Redemption: Act of Treason - Part 4 for Free Online Page A

question. It wasn’t meant to be answered.
    “We’ll take a short recess, then return with the testimony of Lieutenant Francesca Solomon.”
    Trace resisted the urge to look at Haym. Why hadn’t the general told him about this? What could his bulldog daughter know about Misrata?
    The chairman of the committee called a break, and a hum of conversation and movement blanketed the room. Trace leaned over to the general.
    “I have no idea,” Haym said before Trace could ask his question. “She conveniently kept this from me.”
    “Why would they hear her out? She wasn’t there.”
    Haym nodded but didn’t reply.
    “Sir?” Trace insisted on an answer. He needed reassurance something hadn’t come to light to wrongly implicate him.
    “I don’t know.” He pushed up from his seat at the table. “Excuse me.”
    With a hefty sigh, Trace slumped back against the chair. Rubbed his jaw, then stood. Stiff in his uniform jacket, he made his way to the main hall. He used the facilities, then walked to the far end of the hall and stood at a bank of windows overlooking the green. Across the grassy area, parking lots gave way to the busy streets of downtown DC. Here, careers were made. Or destroyed. Pundits needed a scapegoat and nailed whomever they could get their hands on onto the cross of justice. Trace understood that sometimes happened to help people feel like tragedies weren’t being ignored. That the pain of innocents wasn’t overlooked.
    He’d just never expected to find himself fighting for his career five years later. This was a nightmare that just would not end. A glance at his watch told him it was time to go back. Sit at the table like a target lined up as a sacrificial lamb.
    “We’re pulling for you, sir,” a young lieutenant said as Trace pushed past. Trace gave him a nod of thanks as he broke through the crowd at the door.
    Someone rammed into him.
    Beautiful gold eyes met his. Widened. And that’s when the rest of her facial features registered. “Miss Solomon.”
    Her cheeks pinked. “Colonel,” she said tightly.
    He took a step away, told himself to leave her alone, but he couldn’t. “Just remember, your lies affect more than me.”
    “I could say the same to you.”
    He did ignore that and shuffled down the aisle into his seat at the front. For a closed, confidential meeting, there were a lot of people here.
    “Where have you been?” Haym hissed.
    “Getting some air,” Trace said, frowning at the general.
    “We have a problem.”
    Trace’s gaze automatically bounced to Francesca Solomon, who’d taken a seat on the row behind them. Without turning her head, she slid her gaze to him. Arrogant confidence plastered her face.
    “She has the identities of your team.”
    “How the heck did she—”
    “I don’t know.”
    “We have to shut that down. She cannot go live with that information.”
    “I’m working on it, but it’s not that simple.”
    “It
is
that simple.” He bent forward, his nose practically in Haym’s face. “If she reveals their names, Zulu is crippled. I cannot launch them. I cannot get the answers we need. This has to be shut down—
now
, General.”
    “They’ll only argue that the names are okay to be revealed because they’re dead.” Haym waved a hand. “It’s a closed hearing—they’ll say the information is safe.”
    “There are fifty potential sources of compromise in this room,” Trace countered.
    “You know that. I know that. But convincing them—”
    “Then we need a distraction to end this now. Then you need to drag her butt under a bright light and convince her to stop.” Trace did not suggest things lightly. But when a bulldog caught the scent of a bone. . .
    An idea began to formulate in Trace’s mind. It could put his reputation in more jeopardy, but did he have any other choice? Annie, Téya, and Nuala depended on him.
    Trace maintained his peace as Chairman Moller resumed the session. He maintained his peace as a summary was