The sun sat high and honest by noon, throwing a hard, indifferent light across the city. Miles drove the familiar route, past the glass facades and market streets, toward the old Sterling Enterprises building — the place where his father had once kept an impossible number of dreams. It still smelled faintly of ink and oil, like a ledger you could open and read the past from.
He took the elevator to the top. The chairman's cabin waited exactly as he remembered it: heavy desk, leather chair carved by time, the long window that turned the harbor into a steady, shimmering map. For a moment he just stood there and watched the water. From this height the city was a problem reduced to angles. He liked that about it.
A soft buzz cut through the quiet. He glanced down at his phone. Ray.
He answered.
"Hello Commander," he said.
"Ghost," came Ray's voice, rougher than usual. "We dug into the old commander's things. We found something you should look at. I sent a document to your inbox."
