At the back of the room, the lead federal agent raised a hand and pressed two fingers to his earpiece.

Admiral Reed stepped up onto the stage and took his place beside me—a silent, immovable monolith of military authority.

I reached into the pocket of my slacks and pulled out a small, encrypted titanium flash drive.

I held it up between my thumb and forefinger, letting the stage lights catch the metal.

“For five years,” I declared, my voice ringing with the clarity of a tolling bell, “I tracked every single falsely certified invoice.