Chapter 37 – The Last Door
Washington, D.C. – Department of Defense Headquarters
June 20, 2011 – Monday, 8:15 a.m.
The sky over the federal capital dawned gray, as if reflecting the tone of farewell that hung in the air. Logan Moore landed at Ronald Reagan National Airport with a small suitcase and a leather briefcase in his hands. He was dressed in his traditional dark gray suit, wine-colored tie, and a contemplative expression.
He took a taxi straight to the Pentagon. It wasn't his first trip to that imposing, labyrinthine, and silently tense place, but he knew it would be his last as part of its staff. It touched him more than he had anticipated.
"Legal Affairs Department," he said to the security guard at the entrance, already presenting his credentials.
The man checked. His already familiar face offered a slight nod.
"Welcome back, Dr. Moore."
— Thank you. Last time.
The guard looked up for a moment, surprised.
— I see... Good luck, sir.
Logan just nodded. He took a deep breath and crossed the gates of a lifetime.
Dr. Rowe's Office — 08:47
The office was the same as always: large, minimalist, immaculately organized. A shade of grayish blue predominated, reinforcing the sobriety of the environment. On the desk, stacked, were confidential folders with red labels, and behind her, Dr. Evelyn Rowe, as always impeccable.
She wore a dark women's suit, hair tied in a tight bun, and rectangular glasses that seemed to increase the attentive gaze behind them even more. When Logan knocked softly on the door, she looked up, as if she already knew exactly that he was there.
— Come in, Moore.
Logan entered and closed the door, walking with firm steps to his usual chair.
— Dr. Rowe.
She looked at him for a long moment. Her eyes didn't hide the recognition of the occasion.
"Logan… so it's real."
"Yes."
He sat down, but his posture was respectful, restrained. The reverence came not only from the position she held, but from the figure she had been to him.
"I'm sure you know what it means to me to be here today," Logan said calmly. "I came to close the cycle. Formally. And personally."
She nodded slowly, revealing that she was also processing this moment.
"I figured this day would come. I just didn't know it would come so quickly."
Logan smiled slightly.
"Seventeen years is fast?"
She smiled too a rare but sincere smile.
"With you, it was. Because you were never here as just another person. You did the work of three people, with integrity, precision, and, above all, humanity." He looked down for a moment. It touched him.
"You believed in me before I believed in myself, Dr. Rowe."
She watched him silently. Then she stood and walked to a small side shelf. She pulled out a rectangular box, made of dark wood, and placed it on the table.
"Before we talk about credentials… I want to give you this."
Logan frowned.
"What is it?"
She opened the box. Inside lay a small gold medal, embossed with the Department of Defense seal, flanked by a pin with the number "17" in the center.
"Distinguished Service Medal. Civilian. For outstanding legal contributions to the national security of the United States. Approved by the Assistant Secretary."
Logan was silent. For several long seconds, he didn't know what to say. He just took a deep breath and touched the box with his fingertips, feeling the symbolic weight of this recognition.
"I didn't expect this…"
"I know." But you deserve it. For everything. For the late nights reading SOCOM reports, for reviewing JSOC missions without ever letting your sense of justice be suffocated by politics. And most of all, for never getting lost in the system. You kept your soul intact.
Logan smiled, but his eyes were slightly moist.
— Thank you, Dr. Rowe. For everything. For every correction, every compliment, every ear-pulling.
— You've grown a lot, Logan. And you'll keep growing.
Security Room – Clearance Deactivation – 10:05 AM
The cold light of the white room seemed almost clinical. A cybersecurity agent asked Logan to hand over his TS/SCI badge. He carefully took it out of his inside jacket pocket, as if saying goodbye to an identity. He handed it to the agent, who entered it into a digital database, deactivating the accesses.
— Your clearance will be removed from the database within 24 hours. From now on, any confidential information you have access to will remain protected by a lifetime confidentiality agreement.
"Understood," Logan said firmly.
The agent simply nodded.
"Thank you for your service."
Back in Dr. Rowe's office – 11:02 a.m.
Logan reappeared, now without the leather briefcase, only with the medal box in his hands.
"It's official. It's over."
She got up from her chair. She walked over to him, now a little closer, without the rigidity of the institutional environment. There was a connection there that transcended the boundaries of mentor and subordinate. It was almost maternal.
"The DOD will miss you. But I will miss you even more."
"So will I, Dr. Rowe."
"And call me Evelyn now. You're free."
They laughed.
"Evelyn," Logan repeated. "Thank you. For trusting me when I was just a lost student at Harvard."
"You were never lost. You were just waiting for the right moment to find out how good you were."
She held out her hand, but he didn't shake it. He hugged her, his gesture respectful but sincere. She hugged him back firmly.
"Will you visit sometimes?" she asked when she let go.
"Whenever you're allowed to."
"And if you ever get tired of practicing law for millionaires in Manhattan, Washington is open to you."
"I'll keep that in my heart."
Reagan National Airport – Departures Lounge – 1:45 p.m.
Logan waited for his flight back to New York. The wooden box was neatly packed in his suitcase. As he watched the planes take off, he picked up his cell phone and opened his notepad.
He typed calmly:
"To Dr. Evelyn Rowe.
Thank you for shaping me as a professional and as a man.
This chapter closes with honor.
With eternal respect and gratitude,
— Logan R. Moore"
He saved it, then sent it as an email, with the subject line: "Last Note."
A few minutes later, the boarding announcement echoed over the speakers. Logan picked up his carry-on bag, adjusted his jacket on his shoulders, and walked toward the gate.
He knew he wasn't running away from anything. He was simply choosing to live a new life.
And as the plane took off over the skies of Washington, Logan looked out the window and whispered, almost like a prayer:
"Thank you for everything."
Chapter 38 — The First Day
Pearson Hardman — New York
Monday, 8:15 a.m. — June 2011
The cold hallways of Pearson Hardman were busier than usual. In the main lobby, employees hurried along with briefcases, coffee cups, and cell phones in hand. The rhythmic click of heels and the metallic clinking of elevators mixed with the low hum of muffled conversations.
On the 47th floor, Jessica Pearson stood in the center of the common area a sort of lounge between the senior partners' offices. She wore an impeccable teal suit and discreet earrings, her posture imposing. She held a tablet and glanced at her wristwatch. The room quickly quieted as the employees gathered around her.
"Good morning, everyone," Jessica began, her firm voice echoing through the space.
She waited a second. Everyone was now watching her intently including Harvey Specter, who was leaning against the wall next to Donna Paulsen, sipping his coffee with an expression of someone who already knew what was coming. Louis Litt, slightly ahead, had an eyebrow arched in curiosity. Mike Ross and Rachel Zane arrived together, discreetly positioning themselves on the side of the group.
"Today is a special day for this firm," Jessica continued. "We are officially welcoming a new colleague. But this is not just any lawyer. This is someone whose career, ethics, and intelligence transcend the standards of private practice. Someone who worked for almost two decades in the United States Department of Defense, advising on high-level operations, including cases under the watchful eye of SOCOM and JSOC."
A few discreet murmurs ran through the group. Rachel raised an eyebrow. Mike looked directly at Harvey, who merely lifted a corner of his lip, as if to say, "You'll understand soon enough."
Jessica turned the tablet and read slowly.
"Dr. Logan R. Moore. Graduated from Harvard Law. LL.M in Criminal Law with a specialization in National Security.
High-level legal consultant with TS/SCI clearance.
Responsible for strategic advice on sensitive military operations.
And now... Senior Criminal Law Attorney at Pearson Hardman."
The elevator door opened with a subtle ding. Logan appeared.
He was dressed in a tailored navy suit, white shirt, and black tie. He was composed, but with a determined look. When he noticed all the eyes on him, he smiled discreetly. Jessica waved him in.
"Welcome, Logan."
He walked calmly toward her. He extended his hand.
"Thank you, Jessica."
They shook hands. Jessica then turned to the team:
"This is the man you are going to meet and probably learn a lot from. Treat him as you would any other partner in this firm. Or rather, with the respect he has already earned.
Logan looked around. He recognized faces and saw new ones, too.
"I'm glad to be here," he said, his voice low and controlled. "I've worked my whole life in the shadows. Now it's time to be where people can be seen. And held accountable. I'm here to contribute, to learn, and, when necessary, to lead."
Louis whispered to himself, impressed:
"He talks like he's in front of Congress…"
Jessica finished with a slight smile:
"Formal introductions aside, Dr. Moore, you have an office ready. Donna will show you around. And Harvey… try not to scare him yet."
Harvey crossed his arms and smiled.
"No promises."
Minutes later Logan's office
The space was elegant, with glass windows that overlooked the Manhattan skyline. The decor was understated but personalized law books shared space with a glass globe, a modern sculpture in matte black, and a folded American flag in a wooden frame. The DOD medal box sat on a discreet shelf, like a silent memory.
Donna Paulsen walked in first, her usual confident stride. "Hello, national hero," she said, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Finally in the world of vain, self-centered lawyers. How are you?"
"Better now that I'm officially here," Logan replied sincerely. "And you haven't changed a bit."
"Neither have you. But now you have your own kingdom."
Harvey walked in next. He was wearing a light gray suit with a lilac tie. "So, Moore, have you finally surrendered to the glitter of the ivory towers?"
"I thought it was time to try working somewhere where coffee doesn't come in paper cups from the military base."
"And with less risk of having to escape by air evacuation," Donna added.
They laughed.
"You were a consultant for four years… but now you're one of us," Harvey said, offering a handshake. "Welcome to the cage."
Logan accepted the greeting.
"I survived SOCOM. I think I can handle lawyers."
"Don't count on it," Donna muttered wryly.
Conference Room, Welcome Back Lunch, 1:00 PM
Rachel and Mike were sitting in the side by side. Louis was talking animatedly about a patent case, but he was clearly interested in engaging Logan in conversation.
"Logan, I've read your publications. The thesis on the intersection of national security and due process in the context of the Patriot Act? Brilliant. An approach I haven't seen since… myself."
Logan smiled diplomatically.
"Thanks, Louis. I like constitutional challenges. Especially the ones no one wants to touch."
Rachel seized the moment.
"And now you're going to do more criminal defense?"
"A little bit of both, actually," Logan replied. "Strategic consulting and trial work, when it makes sense. Especially in sensitive cases."
Mike finally spoke:
"So what was it like transitioning from covert operations to the courtroom?"
Logan looked at him curiously.
"The courtroom can be more dangerous. At least on the battlefield, you know who's trying to take you down. Here… sometimes they're on your side." Donna, listening from afar, smiled with satisfaction.
"Did I mention he has better catchphrases than Harvey?"
Harvey rolled his eyes.
"Please. I'm still the king of catchphrases."
Logan looked at Harvey, seriously:
"Are we still fighting over that?"
They laughed. The atmosphere, which could have been tense due to the arrival of a "stranger", was light, almost familiar. Logan didn't try to impose himself—but his presence naturally drew attention.
End of the Day, Logan's Office, 6:47 PM
The office was now silent. Logan was sorting out some papers, reviewing a criminal extradition case involving dual nationality. It was a collaboration with Rachel. The door opened slightly Jessica.
"I came to see how your first day went."
Logan smiled.
"Intense. But good."
"Everyone liked you. And I don't say that just to stroke your ego."
"I expected nothing less. You've built a solid team." Jessica looked around.
"And now, how do you feel?"
Logan took a deep breath.
"Free. I loved what I did at the DOD. But here… it's something else. I'm doing something of my own. Choosing where to put my energy. It's different."
Jessica nodded.
"And you'll surprise us yet. I'm sure of it."
She turned to leave, but stopped at the door.
"Oh, and Logan…"
"Yes?"
"I was right to wait for you all this time."
Logan stared at her, eyes steady.
"And I'm grateful you waited."
She smiled, elegant as always, and left.
Night — Logan's Apartment — 10:10 PM
The apartment was minimalist, with neutral tones and warm lights. Logan was barefoot, his dress shirt folded over the chair, sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in his hand. An instrumental jazz concert was playing on the TV. His laptop was open with company emails. He turned on the speakerphone and dialed.
"Hello?" His father, Richard, came on the other end.
"Hi, Dad. I just wanted to tell you it was my first day."
"So? How was it?"
"Intense. But great. I felt like I was in the right place."
"We always knew you'd make it. We're proud."
"And I miss you."
"I told you you can come over for dinner whenever you want. It's your house."
Logan smiled. "Tomorrow night, I think. I need some real food."
"Your mother will be happy. And so will I. Good night, son."
"Good night, Dad."
He hung up. He looked out the window. New York City was shining brightly outside. And for the first time in years, Logan Moore felt like his mission was still going on. He had just changed battlefields.
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