At My Husband’s Military Gala, My Mother-in-Law Pointed at Me in Full Dress Whites and Demanded That Military Police Arrest Me, Certain I Was an Impostor. Then My ID Was Scanned—and the Entire Ballroom Went Silent When the Screen Revealed Who I Really Was.

Chapter 6

Three days later, I was sitting in a secure office at NCIS headquarters while the investigation had been taken over by a joint task force, and Arthur was being held in a military detention facility while Victoria had been released on bail but placed under house arrest. The media hadn’t gotten wind of the story yet, but it was only a matter of time before someone leaked the information to the press. “Captain Hayes,” a voice said, and I looked up to see Special Agent Marcus Webb standing in the doorway, and he was the lead investigator who I had worked with before on several joint operations.

“We have a lead,” he said, and I stood immediately as he explained that Chen had been traced to a hotel in Virginia Beach but had checked out two days ago. “We found something in his room,” Agent Webb continued, and he handed me a tablet that displayed a photograph of a man who was Asian, mid-fifties, and distinguished, wearing a suit and standing in front of a building that I recognized immediately. It was the building where I worked, and my blood ran cold as I realized the implications.

“He’s been watching you, Eleanor, not Arthur and not Victoria, but you,” Agent Webb said, and I asked why. “Because you’re the Director of Joint Maritime Intelligence Operations, and you have access to information that could compromise every operation in the Pacific theater. You’re the target.” I sat down as the weight of his words settled on my shoulders, and I realized that Arthur and Victoria had been nothing more than entry points for a much larger operation.

“Where is he now?” I asked, and Agent Webb admitted that they didn’t know because Chen had disappeared after the gala. “But we found something else,” he said, and he pulled out a folder that contained records of wire transfers from an offshore account to Arthur’s personal bank account. I looked at the records and saw that the total was two hundred and thirty thousand dollars, transferred over six months in payments that were labeled “consulting fees.”

“Arthur didn’t tell us about this,” I said, and Agent Webb agreed that either Arthur didn’t know about the account or he was hiding it. I examined the records more carefully, looking at the dates and the amounts and the account numbers, and something was wrong because these deposits were made on the fifteenth of each month. “Arthur’s paychecks are deposited on the first, and he balances his accounts on the tenth, so he would have noticed these deposits,” I said, and Agent Webb nodded in agreement.

“Which means either he’s lying about not knowing, or someone else set up the account,” I continued, and Agent Webb added that someone could have set him up. I looked at the account number again, and I realized that it was a number I recognized because this was a Navy Federal Credit Union account while Arthur’s accounts were with Bank of America. “Then who opened this account?” Agent Webb asked, and I thought about the possibilities.

Someone had access to Arthur’s personal information, someone who knew his Social Security number and his date of birth and his mother’s maiden name, and someone who had been planning this for a long time. “Agent Webb,” I said slowly, “I need you to check the account registration date and the IP address used to open it, and I need you to check the security footage from the branch where it was opened.” Agent Webb studied me for a long moment before he asked whether I was sure that Arthur wasn’t involved, and I admitted that I thought Arthur was many things but I didn’t think he was a traitor.

“You’re close to this, Captain, and your judgment could be compromised,” Agent Webb said, but I acknowledged that I knew the risks. “But you’re going to pursue this anyway,” he said, and I met his eyes and told him that I was. He nodded slowly and said that he would help me, but he warned me that if we found out Arthur was guilty, I needed to accept it. “I will,” I said, and he left me alone in the office with the wire transfer records spread across the table and the surveillance photographs pinned to the board.

Mr. Chen’s face stared at me from the tablet, and I knew that somewhere out there he was watching and waiting for his next move. But first, I needed to visit Arthur because I needed to hear his voice and look into his eyes and decide once and for all whether the man I married was a victim or a traitor. The military detention facility was located on the northern edge of the base, and it was a gray building with reinforced windows and security checkpoints at every entrance, and I passed through three layers of screening before I reached the visitation room.

Arthur was already there, wearing a prison uniform with his face thinner than it had been three days ago and his eyes hollow and empty, but when he saw me, something flickered in them that looked like hope. “Eleanor,” he said, and I sat across from him with the glass partition separating us while the phone receiver felt cold in my hand. “Arthur, I need you to tell me the truth,” I said, and he insisted that he had been telling me the truth. “Two hundred and thirty thousand dollars,” I said, and Arthur’s face went blank as he asked what I was talking about.

I explained about the wire transfers from an offshore account to his personal bank account, and Arthur shook his head and insisted that he didn’t have another bank account. “Someone opened one in your name,” I said, and I asked him to think about whether anyone had ever asked for his personal information. Arthur’s face changed as the realization hit him, and he told me that Chen had asked for his Social Security number and date of birth during their first meeting, claiming that he needed it for a security clearance for the consulting work.

“That’s when he set it up,” I said, and Arthur’s hands clenched as he swore that he had never seen that money and never known about that account. “I believe you,” I said, and Arthur’s eyes widened with surprise. “I do,” I confirmed. “But I need you to help me prove it, and I need you to remember everything about every conversation with Chen and every detail and every place you met.”

Arthur nodded and began to talk, and he spoke for two hours about every meeting with Chen and every conversation and every promise and every threat. He remembered the coffee shop where Victoria had been recruited and the restaurant where the photographs were taken and the hotel where Chen had been staying, and he remembered the car Chen drove and the watch he wore and the way he smelled. I wrote everything down in my notebook, and when I left the detention facility, I had a detailed map of Chen’s movements and patterns and habits and weaknesses.