Chapter 12 – The Room Without Windows
August 2, 1990 – Department of Defense – Room 4D-121 – 6:47 AM
Logan woke before his alarm. The room was silent except for the soft hum of the central air conditioning. The sky outside was still pale, with hints of blue trailing out of the night. He sat up in bed and ran his hands over his face.
Today was the day.
The first day with access to classified data.
He got up, dressed in a dark suit, white shirt, and a silver-gray tie that gave off a neutral, professional image. He looked at himself in the mirror. His dark brown eyes, attentive. His posture straight. His air more mature, more serious.
He picked up his badge. Now with the red seal and the marking "LEVEL 1 – RESTRICTED ACCESS."
He sighed deeply.
"Let's get started."
Department of Defense – Credential Entry – 07:39
Logan passed through the first two checkpoints with ease. At the third, however, a federal agent stopped him. It was part of the clearance confirmation procedure.
—Name?
—Logan Moore.
—Function?
—Legal intern under direct supervision of Dr. Amanda Rowe.
—Access requested?
—1. Restricted to the division of internal legal operations and precedent analysis.
The agent checked, confirmed, and then released him.
—Welcome to the center.
When the automatic doors opened, Logan entered a wing different from what he was used to.
Silent. Windowless. Lit by soft white lights. The hallways were narrower, and there were cameras at every corner.
Dr. Rowe was waiting for him at the door of a room with an unmarked sign.
—Are you ready?
—Yes, ma'am.
— From here on, everything you see, hear or deduce, stays here. Do you understand?
— Yes.
She held out a militarized tablet. Reinforced screen, active encryption.
— Your first classified case.
8:10 AM – Room 4D-121 – Side Table
Logan sat in silence and began to read.
Subject: Operation Saffron – Internal monitoring of communications between American agents suspected of leaking information to foreign agencies.
It was a sensitive case. The people involved were American citizens. One of them even held an administrative position within a military base on American soil.
The report contained encrypted transcripts, movement times, records of entries and exits in classified areas. Logan read everything carefully. Reread it. He noted points of possible legal inconsistencies, especially regarding the interception of communications without judicial authorization.
Two hours later, he went to Amanda's office.
— Ma'am?
— Yes?
— I read the report. I have doubts about the legal basis for monitoring internal messages between agents. Some interceptions were made based on "reasonable suspicion," but without prior authorization.
Amanda closed the folder she was reading.
"That's correct. And what do you suggest?"
"I recommend a comparative analysis with the United States v. Katz decision (1967). And perhaps reinforce the legal position with emergency support provided for in the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act."
She smiled proudly.
"You're twenty?"
"Still nineteen, ma'am."
"Then I have renewed hope for the next generation."
She stood up.
"As of today, you are my direct assistant. That means you will work with me on all confidential analysis and internal hearings. It's an unofficial position, but it will have weight on your record. Do you accept?"
Logan blinked in surprise. He felt the blood heat his ears.
"I accept. With honor."
"Excellent." Wear this responsibility like an invisible uniform. Carry it with dignity.
August 4 – Internal Briefing Room – 3:10 p.m.
Logan walked in behind Amanda. The room was only seven people long. They were all seated around an oval table, each with an encrypted tablet and sealed folders.
Amanda introduced Logan formally.
"This is Logan Moore. You'll be working directly with me on preliminary legal risk assessments."
One of the men Colonel Jacob H. Faulkner arched an eyebrow.
"An intern? In here?"
Amanda didn't flinch.
"The most disciplined mind I've ever encountered at Harvard. And with more legal common sense than most gold-badge lawyers."
Faulkner nodded.
"We'll see."
August 6 – Room 204 – 11:37 p.m.
Logan was handwriting a letter.
"Dear Mom and Dad,
Today was one of the most important days of my life. I was promoted to assistant to Dr. Rowe. I'm dealing with cases I never imagined I'd see so soon. I feel like I'm growing a decade every week.
Sometimes I'm scared, yes. By the seriousness. By the weight of what I'm seeing. But I never doubt it. Because all of this is happening because you've always believed in me.
I miss you. Every day.
Love,
Logan"
August 8 – Confidential Corridor – 6:12 p.m.
Amanda and Logan walked together, in silence.
"Moore… can I ask you something personal?"
"Of course, ma'am."
"Why did you choose this path?" Criminal Law. National security.
Logan thought. He looked ahead, then at her.
"Because someone needs to understand the rules to make sure they don't get broken without anyone noticing. And because the real world… is much more dangerous than it seems in the books."
She nodded. And after a moment:
"You remind me of someone I knew years ago. A brilliant student. Quiet. But fierce when he saw injustice. He now works at the NSA."
"One day I want to meet him."
"Maybe you're already ahead."
August 10 – Bunker Meeting Room – 9:00 AM
At the meeting, Amanda presented the report that Logan had helped to construct. He was silent, watching as she spoke clear, precise, forceful.
At the end, Colonel Faulkner stood up.
"Dr. Rowe… that analysis was incredibly thorough. Who did the cross-checking?"
She just pointed discreetly at Logan.
Faulkner stared. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Moore… congratulations. Keep it up. But remember: what you see in here shapes what you will become. Be careful what you take in."
Logan held his gaze.
"I always will, sir."
Chapter 13 – The Return of Silence
August 18, 1990 – Department of Defense – Room 4D-121 – 07:02
The sound of the printer was low, continuous. Logan was alone in the room that had welcomed him so many mornings. He was wearing the same gray suit from the first day, now tighter on his firmer body. He was finishing printing his latest report: an analysis of the legal feasibility of wiretapping hybrid communication channels under international jurisdiction, related to a case that had begun days ago and that he would not see finished.
Slowly, he took the hot sheet of paper from the tray and placed it in a folder with his signature.
It was his last formal act in that room.
He stood up and took one last look around.
The leather chair with the loose arm, the disposable coffee cup with the "DOD Legal Ops" logo, the papers with his notes, and a small yellow post-it note left discreetly by Amanda days ago, with a single word:
"Focus."
He folded the paper, put it in the inside pocket of his jacket, and headed for Amanda's office.
7:20 a.m. – Dr. Rowe's Office
The door was ajar. Logan knocked lightly.
"Come in."
Amanda was standing, organizing files in an aluminum military briefcase. Her movements were methodical as always, but there was something in the way she stopped when she saw him.
"Moore."
"Dr. Rowe."
"Punctual, as always."
"I've been living with a watch on my wrist lately, ma'am."
She nodded, almost as a gesture of complicity.
"Are you leaving today?"
"My train to Boston leaves at 1:30 p.m.
She closed the briefcase with a sharp click. Then she walked over to the chair and did something Logan had never seen her do: she sat down slowly, folding her hands in her lap.
"That's it for now, then."
— Yes. I just... wanted to thank you. For everything. For the trust, for the opportunity, for the challenges. I learned more in these two months than in an entire year of college.
She looked at him intensely.
— No need to thank me. It was a privilege to have had the chance to mentor someone like you, Moore. Discipline, intelligence, discretion, initiative. That's rare. Especially in this generation.
He lowered his head slightly, as if receiving a silent award.
— You were... are the best mentor I could have had.
She stood up, now more formal again. She walked to the bookshelf and picked up a manila envelope with a DOD seal. She handed it to Logan.
— Your evaluation. And a personal letter of recommendation from me. But besides that, I want you to know that I've spoken about you with some contacts—people who might one day cross your professional path again.
Logan held the envelope carefully, as if it were carrying a piece of his own history.
— And what about the Operation Saffron case...?
— It will continue. But you have already left the essentials. The legal gaps you pointed out have been forwarded to the Attorney General's Office. And your name is on the internal credits of the report.
— Thank you.
She crossed her arms.
— I want you to come back.
— Ma'am?
— After the first semester of your sophomore year. We will be waiting for you. And, if everything goes as I hope, perhaps your next internship here will involve much more than reports.
He took a deep breath.
— I will prepare for it.
— You have been preparing, Moore. Ever since the day you took that train to Boston for the first time.
11:04 AM – Union Station, Washington, D.C.
Logan waited on the platform with a single black suitcase at his side. He was wearing a light blue shirt, no tie, and his eyes were fixed on the tracks ahead. Next to him was Amanda Rowe, with her dark blazer and folders under her arm.
— Is everything settled with your accommodation?
— Yes, I managed to keep the same room in the dormitory. Thomas helped me with that.
— Is he your classmate?
— My best friend, yes.
Amanda gave a small nod of approval.
— That's important. Having someone you trust.
The train whistle sounded in the distance. A metallic roar cut through the warm morning air.
— When I get back… do you think things will be very different?
— Moore, in the world of national security, everything changes in a matter of minutes. But what doesn't change are your principles. You have yours. Cultivate them. Protect them.
He nodded. The locomotive was already slowing down, approaching the platform.
— Goodbye, ma'am.
— Goodbye, Logan.
And for the first time, she used his name. No title. No formality. Just… human.
He got into the car and looked back out the window before sitting down. Amanda was still there, motionless. Like a sentry.
3:37 p.m. – Boston-Bound Train – Car 7
Logan watched the trees rush by. He took the folded post-it note from his pocket: "Focus." Then he opened the manila envelope. He read Amanda's letter:
"Moore,
Intelligence is common. Character is rare. Keep walking with both.
With admiration,
A.R."
He closed his eyes. For a few moments, he just let himself feel.
5:10 p.m. – Harvard Law – Student Housing
"MOORE?!"
The excited voice came from the end of the hallway. Thomas was running with a big smile, messy hair, a crumpled T-shirt.
Logan laughed.
— THOMAS!
— Dude! You're back! You look like a secret agent, look at that outfit!
— You were on a train, not on a mission.
— Yeah... but tell me, what was it like? I heard you became like the right-hand man of some badass woman in the DOD.
Logan put his suitcase down and shrugged.
— It was intense. And yes, I worked with her directly. Amanda Rowe. Tough. Brilliant. Unforgettable.
— So? Are you going back there?
— She told me yes. After the first semester.
— Damn... this is serious.
Logan looked around. The old dorm, the stained walls, the smell of new paper mixed with cheap coffee. It was like coming home a home made of effort, of ambition, of the future.
— Yeah. It's very serious.
August 19 – Room 218 – Harvard
Logan wrote to his parents again:
"Mom, Dad,
I'm back in Boston. Classes start next week. My time in Washington was everything I dreamed of — and more.
I've been recognized. I've gained trust. And I have a place to go back to.
I'm fine. Stronger, more prepared. But I'm still the same. The same son you raised with effort, values, and lots of love.
I love you.
Logan"
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