Chapter 240: 240 Julian’s Evidence

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240: Julian’s Evidence 240: Julian’s Evidence “Then the deception continues until she does,” Bruce said.

“Or until day zero, whichever comes first.

Seventeen days until Project Integration’s End.

Seven to ten days for the deception.

That gives us a week’s buffer if things go wrong.”

“A week to mount a conventional defense if the deception fails,” Mikhail clarified.

“It’s not much, but it’s something.”

The community had fully gathered now, everyone listening to the discussion about Bruce’s impending departure.

The false alarm had brought them all out of their homes, and now they stood in the pre-dawn darkness, learning that their leader was about to walk into enemy territory.

“I want to say something,” Tom spoke up, his usual jovial demeanor serious.

“Bruce, you and Mishka—you’ve protected this community, led us through attacks, given us hope that integration can work.

If you’re doing this deception thing to save lives, then we’ll hold Eldergrove for you.

However long it takes.

We’ll be here when you come back.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.

“All of us,” Lila added.

“Every resident, every rescued prisoner, every person who’s found sanctuary here.

We’ll keep it safe.”

Emma stepped forward, her young face showing determination beyond her years.

“The wards are stronger than ever.

I’ll maintain them personally.

And if Jean tries anything while you’re gone, she’ll find out exactly what a Resonant can do when protecting her home.”

Bruce felt emotion clogging his throat.

“Thank you.

All of you.”

“Don’t thank us yet,” Julian said pragmatically.

“Thank us when this is over and everyone’s alive.

For now, we prepare.

Bruce leaves in three days.

That gives us seventy-two hours to shore up defenses, brief everyone on the deception plan, and make sure Eldergrove is ready for whatever Jean throws at us when she realizes she’s been tricked.”

The meeting dissolved into tactical discussions, but Mishka pulled Bruce aside, away from the crowd.

“Julian’s drill was cruel,” she said quietly.

“But he wasn’t wrong.

We needed to know Eldergrove could function without us.”

“I know.

Doesn’t make me less angry about the execution.”

“Agreed.” Mishka took his hand.

“Bruce, in three days you’re going to pretend to love Jean.

You’re going to hold her hand, maybe kiss her, act like you’re choosing her over me.

I need you to know—I understand why you’re doing this.

I support the decision.

But it’s still going to hurt like hell to watch.”

“I won’t enjoy it,” Bruce said.

“Every moment with her will feel like betrayal.”

“But it’s not betrayal.

It’s sacrifice.

There’s a difference.” Mishka looked up at him, her eyes reflecting the security lights.

“Promise me something.

When it’s over, when Jean is contained and the threat is neutralized, you come straight home.

No detours, no guilt spirals, no convincing yourself you need to ‘process’ what you’ve done.

You come home to me.”

“I promise,” Bruce said, pulling her close.

“Seven to ten days maximum.

Then I’m yours again.

Forever.”

They stood together as the false alarm’s aftermath continued around them—residents returning to homes, security teams standing down, the adrenaline of fake crisis fading into exhausted relief.

In three days, Bruce would board a plane to Europe.

Would meet with Lucinda and Jean.

Would begin the most difficult performance of his life.

But tonight, he had this.

His community, safe and strong.

His fiancée, brave and understanding.

His home, worth every sacrifice he was about to make.

The false alarm had been terrifying, infuriating, and ultimately necessary.

Because now Bruce knew—no matter what happened with Jean, no matter how the deception played out—Eldergrove would survive.

And that knowledge would sustain him through whatever hell awaited in Europe.

Frank arrived at Eldergrove two days before Bruce was scheduled to leave for Europe.

Mishka’s colleague from her father’s electronics company came bearing a laptop, three external hard drives, and an expression that suggested he’d barely slept in days.

“I found it,” Frank said without preamble as he entered the community center where Bruce, Mishka, Julian, and the core leadership had gathered.

“Everything.

Jean’s financial network, her backers, the locations of her detention facilities.

It’s all here.”

He set up his laptop, connecting it to the large screen.

Within moments, a complex web of financial transactions filled the display—millions of dollars flowing through shell companies, offshore accounts, and legitimate businesses that served as fronts.

“I’ve been working with Angus at the electronics company,” Frank explained, referring to Mishka’s father.

“Using our internal security systems to trace the digital footprints Jean’s network left behind.

Every collar she’s made requires rare earth minerals.

Every facility needs power, water, supply chains.

You can’t run an operation this size without leaving traces.”

“How did you find this?” Director Chen asked through the video link, her face tight with concentration.

“The collar they put on Mishka had a serial number etched into the interior mechanism,” Frank said.

“Dr.

Chen provided it when she defected.

I traced that serial number back through manufacturing records, shipping manifests, purchase orders.

It led me to a supplier in Singapore who also provided materials to seventeen other ‘research facilities’ across North America.”

Gillian leaned forward, her financial expertise engaging.

“These shell companies—I recognize some of them.

They appeared in the documents Jean deliberately left at the summit.

But these others…”

“Are the ones she didn’t want us to find,” Frank finished.

“The real financial backbone of her operation.

And they all trace back to three primary investors.” He pulled up profiles.

“Lord Aleksander’s Old World Conclave—we already knew about them.

But also the Tenebris Foundation, which claims to fund ‘supernatural research,’ and Meridian Global Securities, a private military contractor.”

“Meridian Global,” Julian said, recognition dawning.

“They were involved in the Somalia intervention three years ago.

Accused of using supernatural beings as weapons but never proven.”

“Because Jean’s collars gave them plausible deniability,” Frank said.

“Controlled supernatural soldiers who could be activated, used, and then disposed of without the company taking responsibility.

The collars made it look like the supernatural beings went rogue rather than following orders.”

Mishka felt sick.

“How many?”

“Based on the financial records and supply chain analysis, I estimate Jean’s network has produced between three hundred and five hundred collars over the past three years.

Not all are currently active, but…” Frank pulled up another document.

“I found detention facility locations.

Twelve confirmed sites across the US, Canada, and Mexico.

Each one holding between ten and forty supernatural beings.”

“That’s potentially four hundred prisoners,” Bruce said, his voice tight with controlled fury.

“Four hundred people being held, tortured, experimented on.”

“And that’s just the ones I could confirm,” Frank said.

“There could be more.

But I have addresses, security protocols, guard rotations.

Everything we’d need to mount coordinated rescue operations.”

Director Chen was already typing, her fingers flying across her keyboard.

“I’m alerting Covenant forces now.

We can have teams ready to move within twenty-four hours.

Frank, can you send me everything you have?”

“Already uploading to your secure server,” Frank said.

“But there’s something else.

Something more immediate.” He pulled up a map showing a location in upstate New York, near the Canadian border.

“This facility here—it’s different from the others.

Higher security, more resources allocated.

And according to the shipping manifests, it received a large delivery of collar components two days ago.”

“Large how?” Julian asked.

“Enough to collar fifty people.

Maybe more.” Frank’s expression was grim.

“I think this is where Jean is preparing for Project Integration’s End.

Where she’s gathering the sleeper agents she plans to activate on day zero.”

“Or where she’s holding her most valuable prisoners,” Mishka said, studying the map.

“High-value targets she doesn’t want scattered across multiple facilities.”

“Either way, it’s our best target,” Bruce said.

“If we hit this facility, we might decapitate her entire operation.”

“Or walk into the most heavily defended trap she’s set,” Julian countered.

“Frank, what’s the security situation?”

Frank pulled up schematics.

“Former military installation, repurposed.

Concrete bunkers, underground sections, multiple defensive perimeters.

Twenty-four armed guards minimum, possibly supernatural specialists on staff.

It’s designed to withstand assault.”

“But not infiltration,” Emma said, studying the layout.

“Look at the ventilation system.

It’s extensive—they need it for underground sections.

If we could get someone small enough into those ducts…”

“You’re fifteen years old,” Patricia Henderson said immediately.

“Absolutely not.”

“I wasn’t volunteering,” Emma said, though her expression suggested otherwise.

“I was observing.

But Mrs.

Pemberton is small enough, or Lila could—”

“We’re not sending civilians into a military installation,” Bruce said firmly.

“This needs to be a Covenant operation.

Trained personnel, proper equipment, coordinated assault.”

“Which takes time we might not have,” Frank argued.

“Sixteen days until day zero.

If Jean realizes we’ve found this location, she’ll relocate.

We have a window, but it’s narrow.”

Mikhail had been studying the financial records in silence.

Now he spoke: “These transactions—they show regular payments to someone inside the Covenant.

Look at the timing.

Every time there’s a Covenant operation against Jean’s network, there’s a payment made three days earlier.

Someone’s feeding her intelligence.”

The room went silent.

“How long?” Director Chen asked, her voice dangerous.

“At least six months,” Mikhail said.

“Possibly longer.

The payments are disguised as consulting fees to a shell company, but the pattern is clear.

Jean has a mole inside the Covenant.”

“That’s why our raids always came up empty,” Julian said.

“Why Jean stayed ahead of us.

She had advance warning.”

“Can you identify who’s receiving the payments?” Bruce demanded.

“Not yet,” Frank admitted.

“The trail goes cold at a numbered account in the Cayman Islands.

But if we could access Covenant financial records, cross-reference with personnel who had access to operational planning—”

“I’ll handle it,” Director Chen said, her face hard.

“Internally.

If there’s a traitor in my organization, I’ll root them out.

But Frank, you need to be careful.

If Jean realizes you’ve uncovered this much, you become a target.”

“I’m already a target,” Frank said.

“The moment I started working with Angus to trace her network, I painted a bullseye on myself.

But it’s worth it.

These people—” he gestured to the detention facility locations, “—they deserve to be freed.

And Jean’s backers deserve to be exposed.”

Gillian was making notes on her tablet.

“This changes the deception strategy.

If we know Jean has a Covenant mole, we can’t trust normal channels for Bruce’s mission.

Everything needs to go through alternate routes.”

“What do you mean?” Mishka asked.

“Bruce is supposed to fly to Europe to meet with Lucinda and begin the engagement charade,” Gillian explained.

“But if Jean has someone inside the Covenant, they’ll know his travel plans, his security detail, everything.

She could set a trap.”

“Or she already knows about the deception plan,” Emma said quietly.

“If the mole has access to Director Chen’s communications…”

Director Chen’s expression was thunderous.

“They don’t.

My secure communications are triple-encrypted and air-gapped from the main network.

But Emma’s right to be cautious.

From now on, all information about Bruce’s mission goes through trusted channels only.

No official Covenant communications.”

“How do we even coordinate without your network?” Julian asked.

“Old-fashioned way,” Frank said, holding up a burner phone.

“Untraceable mobiles, encrypted messaging apps, face-to-face meetings only.

It’s slower, but it’s secure.”

Bruce looked at the evidence Frank had compiled—the detention facilities, the financial networks, the proof of Jean’s vast operation.

“This intelligence is incredible, Frank.

You’ve given us everything we need to dismantle her network.

But it also means the stakes just got higher.

If Jean knows we have this information—”

“She’ll accelerate her timeline,” Mishka finished.

“Launch Project Integration’s End early, before we can use the intelligence against her.”

“Which is why we need to move fast,” Frank said.

“I recommend we act within forty-eight hours.

Coordinate simultaneous raids on all twelve facilities, arrest all known financial backers, and cut off her resources before she can regroup.”

“That’s aggressive,” Julian observed.

“But it might work.

Hit her so hard and fast she doesn’t have time to respond.”

“Or we stick with the deception plan,” Bruce said.

“Let me go to Europe, convince Jean to disarm voluntarily.

Then we use Frank’s intelligence to ensure we get everything, not just what she chooses to surrender.”

“Can we do both?” Emma asked.

“Bruce proceeds with the deception while the Covenant uses Frank’s intelligence to prepare the raids.

The moment Jean surrenders her resources, we verify locations against Frank’s data.

Anything she doesn’t disclose, we hit immediately.”

Director Chen considered.

“That could work.

It gives us two paths to victory—deception and force.

If one fails, we have the other.”

“And if both fail?” Mishka asked.

“Then we’ve still disrupted her network more than we ever have before,” Frank said.

“Exposed her backers, identified her facilities, proven the connections to the Old World Conclave and Meridian Global.

Even if she escapes, her operation is crippled.”

Angus’s voice came through Frank’s phone, which was on speaker.

“Mishka, sweetheart, is that you?”

“Dad?” Mishka moved closer to the phone.

“You’re monitoring this?”

“Frank and I have been working around the clock on this,” Angus said.

“I’m proud of you, honey.

Proud of what you’re building in Eldergrove.

Your grandmother would be too.”

Mishka felt tears prick her eyes.

“Thanks, Dad.

How’s Grandma Myrtle?

Still in India?”

“Last I heard, yes.

Probably pestering some ashram about their tea quality.” Angus’s tone grew serious.

“But Mishka, Bruce—be careful with this deception plan.

I’ve dealt with obsessive people in business.

They don’t react well to betrayal.

Make sure you have exit strategies, backup plans.”

“We will,” Bruce promised.

“Frank, show them the last thing,” Angus said.

Frank pulled up one final document—a detailed schematic of a collar, but different from the ones Dr.

Chen had designed.

“This is a new design.

More sophisticated, harder to detect, impossible to remove without the master control device.

According to the shipping manifests, Jean ordered fifty of these.

And they were all delivered to that high-security facility in upstate New York.”

“Fifty collars for fifty sleeper agents,” Julian said.

“For day zero.”

“Or fifty collars for fifty high-value targets she plans to capture,” Emma countered.

“People like me.

Resonants, powerful Sirens, leaders of integration communities.”

“Either way, that facility is critical,” Bruce said.

“We need to neutralize it.”

“I’ll coordinate with Covenant forces,” Director Chen said.

“But not through official channels.

Personal contacts only, people I trust absolutely.

We hit that facility within seventy-two hours.”

“That’s cutting it close to Bruce’s departure for Europe,” Gillian noted.