The grand hall of the Pembroke ranch was dead quiet. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.
"That video," my father said, turning slowly to face the gathered crowd of cattle magnates and community leaders standing near the doorway, "was uploaded to a secure server at 0800 hours this morning. It has been reviewed by the Department of Defense Ethics Committee, the Montana Department of Agriculture, and the United States Attorney’s Office for the District of Montana."
Margaret’s face drained of color. "What... what does the government have to do with a private party?!"
My father turned his flinty gaze back to Richard Pembroke Senior.
"Richard, for five years, you’ve bragged about Pembroke Enterprises being the primary beef contractor for three major military installations in the Pacific Northwest," my father said, his voice terrifyingly quiet. "A contract worth roughly forty-two million dollars annually."
Richard’s eyes widened slightly, a twitch developing under his left eye. "What does my business contract have to do with your daughter?"
"My daughter," my father corrected, "is Lieutenant Colonel Nora Ellis. Senior Operations Logistics Officer for the United States Army Materiel Command. She holds a Top Secret clearance and oversees government procurement distribution across four states—including the very installations your beef supplies."
A collective gasp rippled through the room.
Victoria and Ashley Pembroke exchanged panicked glances. Wesley looked at me as if I had suddenly turned into a stranger.
"You..." Richard stammered, his cigar slipping from his fingers and landing on the rug. "You're an active-duty senior officer?"