Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Refused to Stay Dead
Major Mercer moved before anyone else.
His shoulder slammed into Catherine as the gun fired.
The bullet shattered a framed photograph behind Richard's desk.
Mercer drew his weapon.
The attacker vanished into the elevator.
Doors closing.
“Down!”
Catherine pulled Martin behind the desk.
Mercer fired once toward the narrowing gap.
The round struck metal.
The doors shut.
Mercer hit the emergency call button.
“Security, lock elevator three.”
Static.
“No response.”
Martin coughed.
Blood spread across his shirt.
Catherine pressed her hand against the wound near his ribs.
“Stay with me.”
“You have to find it.”
“What?”
“Your mother's file.”
“Where?”
Martin tried to speak.
His eyes rolled.
“Martin.”
Mercer checked his pulse.
“He's alive.”
Catherine called for a medical team.
Within minutes Martin was transported under guard.
Richard remained near the broken photograph.
He stared at the bullet hole.
“That was meant for you.”
“Yes.”
“You say that like somebody delivered the wrong lunch.”
“Fear won't change where the bullet went.”
Richard looked at her.
“Do you ever get scared?”
“All the time.”
“I've never seen it.”
“You weren't looking.”
The words landed between them.
Catherine had not intended them as punishment.
That made them worse.
Richard lowered his eyes.
Mercer returned.
“Attacker exited at ground level before lockdown. Surveillance picked up a dark sedan leaving the north gate.”
“Kane?”
“Unknown.”
Catherine looked at the bullet fragment embedded in the wall.
“He wanted me alive long enough to hear the message.”
“Your mother's file.”
“Yes.”
Richard turned suddenly.
“I know what he means.”
Catherine faced him.
“You do?”
“Your mother kept duplicate records.”
“Where?”
“Not here.”
He grabbed his coat.
“I'll take you.”
They drove thirty minutes outside the city to an old farmhouse Catherine had not visited since childhood.
It belonged to her mother.
Or had.
After Evelyn's death, Richard kept the property but never used it.
Catherine remembered summer afternoons there.
Her mother reading intelligence thrillers on the porch.
Thomas fishing badly in the pond.
Richard complaining that there was no cell signal.
Memory could make ordinary places painful.
Richard unlocked the front door.
Dust covered the furniture.
Nothing appeared disturbed.
“Where?” Catherine asked.
“Upstairs.”
Evelyn's old office remained almost exactly as she had left it.
Books.
Desk.
Faded photographs.
A ceramic coffee mug reading WORLD'S MOST STUBBORN WOMAN.
Catherine touched it.
“She loved that thing.”
Richard smiled faintly.
“You gave it to her.”
“I was twelve.”
“She used it every morning.”
Richard walked toward the bookshelf.
He removed a biography of Eleanor Roosevelt.
Behind it was a small steel key.
Catherine stared.
“You knew about this?”
“Not until after she died.”
He unlocked the bottom drawer of the desk.
Inside was a wooden box.
Catherine opened it.
Letters.
Photographs.
Financial documents.
A cassette recorder.
And one sealed envelope.
Written across the front:
FOR CATHERINE.
Her hands stopped.
Richard stepped away.
“I never opened it.”
“You knew it existed?”
“Yes.”
“For fourteen years?”
“Yes.”
Anger rose so fast Catherine almost felt dizzy.
“You kept a letter from my dead mother for fourteen years?”
“I promised her.”
“What?”
“She told me to give it to you only if Samuel Kane returned.”
Catherine stared at him.
“You believed he was dead.”
“I hoped.”
She tore open the envelope.
Inside was a single sheet.
Catherine,
If you are reading this, then Samuel Kane survived, and whatever I tried to stop survived with him.
Do not trust the official crash report.
Do not trust Keystone.
And do not assume your father betrayed me.
He made mistakes, but the worst thing he did was being afraid.
There is one person you must find.
Her name is Rebecca Sloan.
She knows where the original procurement files are hidden.
Catherine stopped reading.
“Rebecca Sloan.”
Richard looked confused.
“Never heard the name.”
Mercer immediately searched.
“She was a civilian engineer with Naval Air Systems Command.”
“Was?”
“Declared dead twelve years ago.”
Catherine looked at him.
“How?”
“House fire.”
“No body?”
Mercer checked.
“Body identified by dental records.”
Catherine folded the letter.
“Samuel Kane was officially dead too.”
Richard sat on the edge of the desk.
“What else does the letter say?”
Catherine continued.
Rebecca trusted me when nobody else would.
If she is alive, tell her the phrase:
The bluebird never landed.
She will understand.
And Catherine—
If you chose service anyway, despite your father's disapproval, then I hope you became exactly the woman I believed you could become.
I love you.
Mom.
Catherine stared at the last line until the words blurred.
She had commanded combat operations without breaking.
She had informed parents their sons were not coming home.
She had stood in the Oval Office while presidents shouted.
But the handwriting of a woman dead fourteen years nearly dropped her to her knees.
Richard looked away.
Catherine folded the letter carefully.
Then she noticed something beneath it.
A photograph.
Her mother standing beside another woman.
Rebecca Sloan.
On the back was an address.
Mercer checked it.
“Maryland.”
“Current?”
“Property still exists.”
“Owner?”
“Trust.”
“Name?”
Mercer looked at Catherine.
“Bluebird Holdings.”
Richard whispered, “That's not a coincidence.”
“No.”
They left immediately.
The address led to a small coastal cottage overlooking Chesapeake Bay.
No vehicles.
No lights.
Catherine approached with Mercer while Richard waited in the car under protest.
They knocked.
Nothing.
Mercer tried the handle.
Unlocked.
Inside, the house smelled recently occupied.
Coffee grounds in the trash.
Fresh bread.
One plate in the sink.
Catherine walked into the living room.
A framed photograph stood on the mantel.
Rebecca Sloan.
Older.
Alive.
Standing beside Catherine's mother.
The photograph had been taken after Evelyn's supposed death.
Catherine's breath stopped.
“Major.”
Mercer stepped beside her.
He saw it.
Timestamp printed in the corner.
Three years after Flight 317 crashed.
Catherine whispered, “That's impossible.”
Floorboards creaked upstairs.
Mercer raised his weapon.
“Stay behind me.”
They climbed.
One door stood partly open.
Catherine heard breathing inside.
Mercer pushed the door.
An elderly woman sat beside the window.
Silver hair.
Thin face.
Sharp eyes.
Rebecca Sloan.
Alive.
She looked at Catherine.
“You took your time.”
Catherine lowered Mercer's weapon with one hand.
“The bluebird never landed.”
Rebecca's expression changed.
Then tears filled her eyes.
“Evelyn said you'd come.”
Catherine stepped closer.
“My mother died fourteen years ago.”
Rebecca stared at her.
“No.”
Catherine froze.
Rebecca stood slowly.
“Your mother disappeared fourteen years ago.”
“Her plane crashed.”
“The plane crashed.”
Rebecca's voice trembled.
“Evelyn wasn't on it.”
Catherine felt the room tilt.
“Where is she?”
Rebecca looked toward the window.
“I haven't seen her in eleven years.”
“Is she alive?”
Rebecca hesitated.
A car door slammed outside.
Mercer moved to the window.
“Company.”
Three black SUVs stopped in front of the cottage.
Armed men stepped out.
Rebecca grabbed Catherine's hand.
“Basement. Now.”
They ran downstairs.
Richard rushed in through the rear door.
“What is happening?”
“No time.”
Rebecca opened a concealed panel beneath the staircase.
A narrow stairway descended into darkness.
They entered.
Rebecca locked the panel.
Below was a concrete room filled with old computers, storage cases, documents, and military equipment.
Catherine stared.
“What is this?”
“Your mother's insurance policy.”
Rebecca opened a safe.
Inside were dozens of drives.
One bore the marking K-17.
Catherine reached for it.
Rebecca stopped her.
“Not that one.”
“Why?”
“Because Kane wants you to open it.”
“What's on it?”
Rebecca stared at her.
“A list of every person involved.”
“Then that's exactly what I need.”
“No.”
Rebecca's voice became urgent.
“Because one of the names belongs to someone standing in this room.”
Catherine slowly looked around.
Mercer.
Richard.
Rebecca.
Then the basement lights went out.
A lock clicked behind them.
May you like
And from somewhere in the darkness, Richard whispered:
“Catherine… somebody just said your name.”
