Chapter 2 - The Phone That Shouldn't Ring
For three seconds, I forgot how to breathe.
The executive beside me whispered, "You know that voice."
I didn't answer.
Because he was right.
Lieutenant Noah Mercer had died in Syria.
I had seen the blast.
I had dragged him nearly twenty yards before the medic pulled me away.
I had stood at his memorial.
I had spoken to his mother.
Yet Noah's voice had just come through a secure device at thirty thousand feet.
"Ethan," the recording continued through static. "If you're hearing this, something went wrong."
Recording.
Not live.
That distinction mattered.
It also didn't make my hands stop shaking.
The message cut out.
I immediately tried to replay it.
ACCESS DENIED.
The executive stared at me.
"Who was that?"
I looked at him.
"Someone who's dead."
He said nothing.
Smartest thing he'd done all morning.
The cabin had become strangely quiet.
Fear had settled into something heavier.
Passengers still whispered, but most had stopped staring out the windows.
The flight attendants had taken their jump seats.
Nobody knew what was happening.
Including me.
My personal phone buzzed again.
Jake.
Do not touch anything in the bag. Call me on civilian line NOW.
I dialed.
He answered before the first ring completed.
"Ethan?"
"Jake."
"Tell me you haven't opened the compartment."
"I haven't."
He exhaled.
"Good."
"Start talking."
"I can't."
"Two fighters are sitting outside my window and a dead teammate just spoke through my secure device. You're past 'can't.'"
The executive looked sharply at me.
Jake went silent.
Then he said, "Can anyone hear you?"
"The guy beside me."
"Who?"
I looked at the executive.
He hesitated.
"Daniel Price."
I repeated it.
Jake went quiet again.
Too quiet.
"Jake?"
"Did he say Daniel Price?"
Daniel heard him.
His expression changed.
"Yes."
"Move away from him."
Daniel stiffened.
"What?"
Jake repeated it.
"Ethan, move away from Daniel Price."
I studied the man beside me.
Daniel raised both hands.
"I have absolutely no idea who that is."
"Jake, why?"
"Because Daniel Price works for Halcyon Meridian."
Daniel's face tightened.
That was enough.
"What is Halcyon Meridian?" I asked.
Daniel answered before Jake could.
"A defense logistics company."
Jake's voice came through the phone.
"They were subcontracted on the Syria operation."
The air between us changed.
Daniel looked at me.
I looked at him.
"Is that true?"
His jaw worked.
"Yes."
"You knew who I was?"
"No."
"Don't lie."
"I'm not."
"You've spent two hours staring at me."
"Because you looked like someone who might punch me for asking to use the restroom."
Under different circumstances, I might have laughed.
I didn't.
Jake cut in.
"Ethan, listen carefully. After your mission, investigators discovered inconsistencies in the extraction timeline."
"What inconsistencies?"
"I wasn't cleared to tell you."
"You are now."
Another silence.
"The convoy that was supposed to extract your team was rerouted eleven minutes before the attack."
I stared straight ahead.
For eight months, I had replayed that night.
The building.
The radio call.
The flash.
Noah.
Luis Ortega.
My leg.
The extraction that came seventeen minutes late.
We had been told weather and communications caused the delay.
"Who rerouted it?"
"We don't know."
I turned toward Daniel.
He shook his head immediately.
"I don't handle field operations."
"What do you handle?"
"Government compliance."
"That sounds convenient."
"It's also true."
Jake continued.
"The Pentagon ceremony isn't only a ceremony."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"What does that mean?"
"They were bringing you in because somebody wanted to talk to you privately."
"Who?"
"Inspector General's office."
Daniel closed his eyes.
He knew something.
I grabbed that immediately.
"What?"
He shook his head.
"Nothing."
"You reacted."
"Because if the Inspector General is involved, this is bigger than I thought."
"Bigger than what?"
He looked toward the aisle.
I lowered my voice.
"Daniel."
His eyes returned to mine.
"Our company received a federal preservation order three days ago."
"For?"
"Records connected to overseas transport contracts."
"Syria?"
He didn't answer.
That was an answer.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
DON'T LET PRICE LEAVE YOUR SIGHT.
I showed Daniel.
He stared at the message.
"That's not funny."
"I'm not laughing."
"Someone knows where we're sitting."
"Apparently."
He looked toward the ceiling as though cameras might be watching us.
Then the encrypted device activated again.
Falcon Two.
"Commander Hayes, acknowledge."
I picked it up.
"Hayes."
"We've received updated instructions."
"From whom?"
"National Military Command Center relay."
That sounded legitimate.
It didn't mean it was.
"What instructions?"
"Your aircraft is being diverted."
Passengers around us couldn't hear the pilot, but Daniel could.
"Diverted where?"
"Stand by."
The line went silent.
Daniel leaned toward me.
"I need to tell you something."
"Now would be good."
"Last week, I found a file."
"What kind of file?"
"A payment authorization."
"For what?"
He swallowed.
"Aviation support."
"Daniel."
"It was connected to the night your team was attacked."
The world seemed to narrow.
"What did it say?"
"I don't know everything."
"What did it say?"
His voice dropped.
"The extraction aircraft wasn't delayed by weather."
I already knew that now.
"What caused it?"
"Someone canceled it."
A pressure built behind my ribs.
"Who?"
"I only saw an authorization code."
"Whose?"
Daniel looked at me.
"That's why I'm going to Washington."
I stared.
"You weren't traveling for business."
"Not the kind my company knows about."
"You're a witness."
He nodded.
Suddenly, his earlier behavior made more sense.
Not all of it.
But enough.
"Why were you staring at me?"
"Because I recognized the tattoo."
My eyes narrowed.
"You said you didn't know me."
"I didn't know your face."
"But?"
"The Trident. The coordinates beneath it."
My forearm went cold.
The coordinates were not classified.
But their significance wasn't obvious.
They marked a place in Virginia where my team had buried a time capsule after our first deployment together.
Only six men knew what those numbers meant.
Two were dead.
"Where did you see them?"
Daniel's hands began trembling.
"In the file."
My heart seemed to stop.
"What file?"
"The one I found at Halcyon."
"Why would my tattoo coordinates be in a corporate file?"
"I don't know."
"Who created it?"
He reached toward his briefcase.
I caught his wrist.
"Slow."
He nodded.
Opened it.
Pulled out a thin paper folder.
Inside was a single photocopied page.
Most of it was accounting language.
Codes.
Dates.
Amounts.
Then I saw it.
A handwritten sequence at the bottom.
33.4267.
44.3692.
Not the coordinates on my tattoo.
Different coordinates.
Coordinates from Syria.
The location of our last mission.
Beside them were three letters.
N.M.
Noah Mercer.
I stared at Daniel.
"Where did you get this?"
"An archive server."
"Who put Noah's initials there?"
"I don't know."
A flight attendant suddenly approached.
She stopped beside our row.
"Mr. Hayes?"
Every passenger within hearing distance turned.
"Yes?"
"The captain needs to speak with you."
Daniel looked at me.
"Up front?"
The flight attendant shook her head.
"No, sir."
She handed me a folded piece of paper.
"The cockpit received this electronically and asked me to give it directly to you."
I unfolded it.
There was no letterhead.
Only one sentence.
ASK DANIEL PRICE WHAT HE TOOK FROM THE LOCKED CABINET.
I slowly turned toward him.
Daniel stared at the note.
His face changed.
"Daniel."
He didn't answer.
"What did you take?"
His hand moved toward his jacket.
I tensed.
He pulled out a small silver flash drive.
"I was going to give this to federal investigators."
My eyes stayed on it.
"What is on that drive?"
Daniel swallowed.
"I don't know."
"Then why steal it?"
"Because the cabinet had one name written on it."
"Whose?"
He looked directly at me.
Before he could answer, the overhead lights flickered.
The encrypted phone rang.
And a new message appeared across its screen.
PASSENGER 12A HAS BEEN COMPROMISED.
I looked at the seat number above Daniel's head.
May you like
12A.
Then somebody behind us whispered my name...
