“Because this schematic shows the auxiliary hatch in the torpedo room welded shut. That was a retrofit on the Los Angeles-class subs, not the Virginia-class.

The Leviathan has an active auxiliary hatch.”

Jonas stopped typing. The silence went suddenly heavy.

“Just a database error,” he said, turning his chair to face me with a small, tight smile.

“No,” I said, taking a slow step back, my hand drifting near my holster. “You didn’t pull this from NAVSEA. You pulled it from the dummy files we use to trap foreign hackers.”

Jonas didn’t reach for a gun. He didn’t have to.