Chapter 2 - Four Stars
Jake did not sleep.
At 0745 the next morning, he stood outside Building One in a fresh uniform while the bruise around his eye throbbed with every heartbeat.
Major Mercer had personally escorted him.
That alone told Jake this was not routine.
“You know who’s inside?” Jake asked.
Mercer stared forward.
“Yes.”
“And you’re still not telling me.”
“No.”
“You enjoy this?”
“Not remotely.”
At exactly 0758, the door opened.
An aide appeared.
“Corporal Reynolds.”
Jake entered.
The office was larger than he expected but not extravagant. A polished wooden desk dominated the room. Bookshelves lined one wall. An American flag stood near a framed aviation photograph.
Colonel Hale stood beside the desk.
Another senior officer leaned over a stack of papers.
And in the center of the room stood a silver-haired man wearing a perfectly pressed Marine dress uniform.
Four stars gleamed on his shoulders.
Jake stopped.
His mind rejected what his eyes were telling him.
Rain.
Coffee.
Declined credit card.
Booth Seven.
The older man slowly turned.
His expression barely changed.
“Corporal Reynolds.”
Jake’s heart slammed against his ribs.
“Sir.”
General Nathaniel Cross.
Jake recognized the name now.
Everyone in uniform did.
Cross had served more than forty years, commanded forces overseas, advised presidents, and was expected to retire within months.
Jake had bought his dinner.
For twelve dollars.
Cross looked at Jake’s face.
“They did that to you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Because of me.”
Jake didn’t know how to answer.
Cross held out an official folder.
Jake accepted it.
“You probably thought I forgot you.”
“Sir, I didn’t know who you were.”
“That was the point.”
Jake looked down at the folder.
His name was printed across the front.
CORPORAL JACOB REYNOLDS.
Cross motioned toward a chair.
“Sit.”
Jake hesitated.
The general noticed.
“That wasn’t a test, Corporal.”
Jake sat.
Cross remained standing.
“Two weeks ago, I went to Harbor Light without staff, security detail, or identifying uniform. I had been visiting someone privately.”
“Sir, your credit card—”
“Had been intentionally deactivated.”
Jake stared.
Cross continued.
“I didn’t know that at the time.”
“So somebody wanted you stranded?”
“Possibly.”
Colonel Hale shifted.
Cross noticed but continued.
“When you paid my bill, I asked questions because your behavior interested me.”
Jake gave a confused laugh.
“I paid for eggs.”
“You did it when you believed I had nothing to offer you.”
Cross leaned against the desk.
“That matters more than people think.”
Jake looked at the folder.
“Then why was I attacked?”
Cross’s expression hardened.
“Because whoever disabled my financial accounts was watching me.”
The room seemed colder.
“And when you interacted with me,” Cross said, “they began watching you.”
Jake remembered the photograph.
“Who are they?”
“We’re trying to determine that.”
Cross nodded toward the folder.
“Open it.”
Jake did.
The first page was an internal transfer authorization.
The second was not.
It contained a list of names.
Military personnel.
Civilian contractors.
Dates.
Dollar amounts.
Jake’s confusion deepened.
“What is this?”
Cross pointed.
“Look at the fourth name.”
Jake did.
ERIC VOSS.
The man who had attacked him.
Beside Voss’s name was a payment.
$18,500.
Two days before the attack.
Jake looked up.
“Who paid him?”
“That’s one of the reasons you’re here.”
Jake turned the page.
The next document showed a transaction account registered to a defense subcontractor named Northbridge Strategic Logistics.
Cross watched him carefully.
“Recognize it?”
“No.”
Colonel Hale spoke.
“You should.”
Jake looked at him.
“Why?”
“Northbridge services the communications facility where you worked last year.”
Jake’s stomach tightened.
He remembered contractors.
Badge readers.
Night shifts.
Server upgrades.
One particular incident.
A secure access door found open after midnight.
Jake had reported it.
His supervisor told him the sensor had malfunctioned.
The case disappeared.
Cross saw recognition in his face.
“Something came back to you.”
Jake nodded slowly.
“Last November. Facility C. Door Twelve.”
Colonel Hale immediately reached for a notebook.
“What about it?”
“It was open.”
“Who had access?”
“Senior staff. Communications technicians. Contractors.”
“Did you see anyone?”
Jake started to say no.
Then memory hit.
A man leaving the corridor carrying a gray equipment case.
At the time Jake assumed he belonged there.
He had worn a Northbridge badge.
But there had been something else.
A silver watch.
A distinctive face.
Jake had seen that face again yesterday.
Not on the attacker.
Somewhere else.
“Corporal?” Cross said.
Jake stood abruptly.
“The officer outside.”
“What?”
“When I came in.”
Jake turned toward the door.
“The captain who checked my identification.”
Colonel Hale moved first.
He opened the door.
The hallway was empty.
The aide at the outer desk looked confused.
“Where’s Captain Ellison?”
“He left five minutes ago, sir.”
“Why?”
“He said General Cross dismissed him.”
Cross stepped into the doorway.
“I did no such thing.”
The building went into security lockdown within sixty seconds.
Captain Mark Ellison’s office was empty.
His government phone sat inside a drawer.
His vehicle remained in the parking lot.
But Ellison himself had vanished.
Jake stared at the empty office while investigators searched everything.
On Ellison’s desk sat a framed photograph.
Jake picked it up.
Ellison stood beside three men at a charity event.
One of them was Eric Voss.
Another was a Northbridge executive.
The third man had been scratched out with black ink.
General Cross entered behind Jake.
“Don’t touch anything else.”
Jake pointed.
“Voss.”
Cross nodded.
Investigators photographed the frame.
Jake noticed handwriting on the back.
“Sir.”
An agent turned it over.
Four numbers.
The same numbers written on Jake’s damaged identification card.
“What is April seventeenth?” Jake asked.
Nobody answered.
Cross looked suddenly older.
Jake noticed.
“You know.”
Cross slowly removed his glasses.
“April seventeenth was the day my son died.”
The office went silent.
Jake’s anger disappeared.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
Cross looked at the photograph.
“My son was Major Ethan Cross. Military intelligence.”
Jake stared at him.
“He died overseas?”
“That’s the official version.”
“And the unofficial version?”
Cross met Jake’s eyes.
“He died twenty miles from this base.”
Before Jake could respond, an investigator rushed into the room holding Captain Ellison’s computer.
“General.”
“What?”
“We recovered a deleted calendar entry.”
Cross read it.
Jake watched his face harden.
“What does it say?”
Cross handed the screen to Colonel Hale.
Hale looked at Jake.
The appointment had been scheduled for that evening.
Location: Harbor Light Diner.
Participant:
MAJOR ETHAN CROSS.
Date:
April 17.
Four years earlier.
Then the building alarms began screaming.
An officer shouted from the corridor.
“WE FOUND ELLISON!”
Jake turned.
“Where?”
May you like
The officer’s face had gone pale.
“In General Cross’s vehicle.”
