29 My Commander Projected My Face On A Screen And Called Me A Traitor — He Didn't Know The Original Recording Still Had My Father's Voice On It

Rosa Delgado met Elena at the bank the next morning.

It was a small bank on the east side of Tucson. It had been founded in 1972. It had a manager named Harold who had known Rafael Vega for thirty years. It had a safe deposit box in the basement that had been paid for in advance through 2030.

Rosa Delgado had the key.

She had kept the key in an envelope in her office for nine years. She had kept the envelope in a drawer with a note on it that said, in her own handwriting, "RAFAEL VEGA — TO BE GIVEN TO HIS DAUGHTER UPON HER REQUEST."

She handed the envelope to Elena at the bank.

Inside the envelope was a small brass key.

Elena took the key. She followed the bank manager down to the basement. She put the key in the lock. She turned it. She opened the box.

Inside the box was a USB drive. It was small and black and had a strip of masking tape on it with her father's handwriting on it. The tape said, in his careful letters: "Para mija. — Papa."

For my daughter. From Papa.

Elena picked up the drive. She held it in her hand for a long time. She did not open it at the bank. She took it back upstairs. She signed the paperwork. She walked out of the bank into the Tucson sunshine. She called Special Agent Cho from the parking lot.

"Ma'am," she said. "I have it."

"You have what?"

"I have the drive. It's my father's. It's been in a safe deposit box for nine years. He wrote my name on it. He left it for me. And I am going to bring it to you. I am going to bring it to you today. And I am going to sit in a room with you and I am going to open it in front of you and I am going to watch whatever is on it with you. Because whatever is on it is what my father wanted me to find."

Cho was quiet for a moment.

"Staff Sergeant Vega," she said, "I want you to understand something. Once you give me that drive, it becomes evidence. It becomes evidence in a federal investigation. It becomes evidence in a case that is going to go to trial. And when it goes to trial, the defense attorney for Marcus Webb is going to attack you. He is going to say that you fabricated the drive. He is going to say that you planted evidence. He is going to say that you are trying to protect yourself by blaming a dead man's recording. Are you ready for that?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And if the drive does not contain what we think it contains — if it contains something else, or nothing, or something that helps Webb and hurts you — are you still ready for that?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then bring me the drive."

"I am on my way."

—

Elena drove from Tucson to Fort Huachuca in one hour and forty minutes.

She walked into the CID office at 13:30. She handed the drive to Anne Cho. She sat down in a conference room with a recorder on the table and a laptop on the table and a witness — a young CID agent named Special Agent Marcus Reyes — sitting in the corner.

Anne Cho inserted the drive into the laptop.

She opened the file manager.

She found a single folder on the drive. It was labeled with a date: 14 NOV 2018.

She opened the folder.

Inside were three files.

The first was a text document. It was Rafael Vega's handwritten notes, typed up, dated 14 November 2018. It described a phone call he had heard while working the night shift at Fort Belvoir. It described the voice of a lieutenant colonel he had recognized. It described the name of a man in Dubai. It described a payment. It described a target.

The second file was an audio recording. It was two minutes and twenty-two seconds long. It was a phone call.

Anne Cho pressed play.

The recording was grainy. It was short. But it was clear enough.

A man's voice said: "The target is in Koh-e Safi. I want Deh Bala hit. I want the message sent to Saleh tonight. Do you understand?"

Another voice said: "Yes, sir."

The first voice said: "Good. Then we are done."

The recording stopped.

Anne Cho played it three more times.

Each time, she listened to the first voice. She listened to the cadence. She listened to the pitch. She listened to the way the man swallowed his consonants and let his vowels drag.

She looked at Elena.

"Staff Sergeant Vega," she said, "I am going to tell you something, and I am going to tell it to you straight. I have been investigating Marcus Webb for eight months. I have surveillance tapes of him in Dubai. I have surveillance tapes of him in Alexandria. I have phone records. I have bank records. I have a confidential informant who has been inside his organization for a year. And in all of that time, I have never — not once — had a recording of his voice on a channel that could be authenticated. Not once."

She pointed at the laptop.

"Until now."

Elena did not say anything.

"Staff Sergeant Vega," Anne Cho said, "the voice on this recording is the voice of Lieutenant Colonel Marcus Webb. I am going to have it analyzed by a forensic examiner at the FBI lab in Quantico. I am going to have it compared to the voice on the altered recording from the auditorium. And I am going to have both of them compared to the voice of the man who was paid by Karim Saleh. And if I am right — and I believe I am right — then the voice on this recording and the voice on the altered recording and the voice of the man who passed intelligence to Dubai are all the same voice. And that voice belongs to a man who has been operating inside the United States Army for six years and who is going to spend the rest of his life in a federal prison."

Elena closed her eyes.