Chapter 3 - The Ghost from Operation Lantern
“Thomas Vale,” I said.
The name came out quieter than I intended.
Barrett stood near the sealed archive door.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I spent five years working beside him.”
The speaker remained silent.
Emergency lights cast the archive room in dark red.
Barrett checked the electronic lock.
“Can we override?”
“Not from here.”
He examined the hinges.
“Give me thirty seconds.”
“For what?”
“To demonstrate why your people recruited a breacher.”
Even now.
I almost smiled.
“Twenty.”
Barrett removed a compact multitool from his belt and started working on the access housing.
I searched the room.
If Vale had locked us inside, he wanted something.
Maybe time.
Maybe fear.
Neither interested me.
“What happened to him?” Barrett asked while working.
“After Lantern?”
“Yes.”
“He disappeared.”
“And was declared dead?”
“Six months later.”
“Body?”
“No.”
He looked over his shoulder.
“That seems like an important detail.”
“At the time, intelligence believed he’d been captured and executed.”
“You believed that?”
“I wanted to.”
“Why?”
Because Thomas Vale had been one of the best operators I had ever known.
And one of the worst human beings.
But Barrett didn’t need that history yet.
The lock clicked.
“Got it.”
He pulled.
Nothing.
“Secondary magnetic bolt,” I said.
He sighed.
“Of course there is.”
The speaker activated again.
“You always were impatient, Evelyn.”
I looked toward the ceiling.
“What do you want, Thomas?”
A pause.
“To finish Lantern.”
My chest tightened.
“Lantern ended nine years ago.”
“No. You stopped looking.”
“For what?”
He laughed.
“You still don’t know.”
Barrett looked at me.
I didn’t.
That disturbed me more than I wanted to admit.
“Tell me,” I said.
“No.”
“Then why call?”
“Because I wanted you to hear the clock start.”
The speaker went dead.
Three seconds later, the emergency lights returned to white.
The archive door unlocked.
Barrett opened it immediately.
No one outside.
We moved fast.
Grant’s voice came through my radio.
“Commander, are you okay?”
“Lockdown source?”
“External intrusion.”
“Location?”
“Unknown.”
“Hale?”
“Working it.”
Barrett and I returned to the command floor.
Mercer was there.
His face told me something else had gone wrong.
“What happened?”
“We received an upload.”
He handed me a tablet.
Operation Lantern.
The stolen archive.
Every classified document had been copied.
“Where was it uploaded?”
“Internal server.”
“Meaning?”
“Whoever took it put it back.”
Barrett frowned.
“Why steal something just to return a digital copy?”
I knew.
“To prove they could.”
Mercer nodded.
“Exactly.”
I opened the first file.
Mission timeline.
Personnel.
Objectives.
Seven names.
My own.
Vale’s.
Rourke’s.
And four dead operators.
I scrolled.
Something was wrong.
“Stop,” I said.
Mercer leaned closer.
“What?”
“This isn’t the original report.”
“How can you tell?”
“Because I wrote the original report.”
I opened the mission objective.
Operation Lantern had officially targeted a weapons broker known as Hadi Nasser.
But this document contained an additional objective.
RECOVER ASSET 17.
I stared.
There was that number again.
Seventeen.
Barrett saw it too.
“Your folder.”
“Yes.”
“Kerr’s transmission.”
“Yes.”
Mercer went pale.
“What was Asset 17?”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“Could it have been compartmentalized above your clearance?”
“I commanded the mission.”
“That doesn’t mean they told you everything,” Barrett said.
He was right.
I hated that he was right.
I read further.
Secondary team authorization.
Thomas Vale.
My pulse increased.
Vale had apparently been given secret orders during my operation.
Orders I had never seen.
Recover Asset 17.
Priority above primary mission.
Lethal discretion authorized.
Barrett read the line twice.
“Lethal discretion?”
“Meaning he was permitted to kill anyone interfering.”
“Including your team?”
I didn’t answer.
Four people died on Lantern.
For nine years, I believed enemy fighters killed them.
What if they hadn’t?
Mercer pulled up the casualty records.
“Evelyn.”
I already knew what he was thinking.
“Don’t.”
“We have to consider it.”
“I know.”
That hurt more.
One by one, memories returned.
Sergeant Jacob Ellis.
Shot while securing a stairwell.
Lieutenant Peter Cho.
Killed when our extraction vehicle exploded.
Mason Reed and Kyle Harper.
Missing after the compound collapsed.
Thomas Vale had been near every incident.
I had never questioned him.
Why would I?
He was one of us.
Barrett watched my face.
“Commander.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
Mercer gave him a look.
Barrett didn’t care.
“You just found out a man on your team may have had authorization to kill your people. Nobody is fine after that.”
The room went quiet.
I looked at Barrett.
For a man who had introduced himself by pinning me against a coffee counter, he was surprisingly perceptive.
“I don’t need sympathy, Chief.”
“Good. I wasn’t offering any.”
Mercer almost laughed.
I didn’t.
But I wanted to.
“Find Rourke,” I said.
Mercer nodded.
Daniel Rourke.
The other Lantern survivor.
He had left government service seven years ago.
Last I heard, he lived somewhere in Oregon.
Grant found an address in nineteen minutes.
A cabin outside Bend.
“Call him,” I said.
“No answer.”
“Again.”
Nothing.
Barrett stood.
“We should go.”
“Agreed.”
Mercer looked at us.
“Both of you?”
“Yes.”
“You think Vale will target Rourke?”
“He already might have.”
We left Tacoma aboard a government aircraft forty-five minutes later.
Barrett sat across from me.
For most of the flight, neither of us spoke.
Finally he said, “Why seventeen years?”
“What?”
“This morning. The message you received referenced seventeen.”
“So?”
“You said you’ve been in covert operations seventeen years.”
I looked at him.
I hadn’t noticed that connection.
Seventeen years.
Asset 17.
Coincidence?
Maybe.
But coincidences were dangerous things in intelligence work.
“Who recruited you?” Barrett asked.
“Army Intelligence.”
“Name?”
I hesitated.
“General Malcolm Voss.”
Barrett stared.
“You’re joking.”
“No.”
“Voss recommended me for Sentinel.”
That landed heavily.
“How do you know?”
“He called me personally three days ago.”
Mercer had said no one knew who added Barrett.
Now we did.
General Malcolm Voss.
The man who recruited me seventeen years ago.
The man who had approved Operation Lantern.
And the man who now controlled a significant portion of America’s special access operations.
“Exactly what did he say?” I asked.
“That Sentinel needed someone who wouldn’t back down from you.”
Despite everything, I blinked.
“That sounds like Voss.”
“He also said I would understand why after meeting you.”
“You assaulted me.”
“I’m aware.”
“Maybe that wasn’t what he meant.”
Barrett rubbed his face.
“I sincerely hope not.”
When we landed outside Bend, darkness had fallen.
A government SUV took us toward Rourke’s cabin.
Pine forest surrounded the narrow road.
Ten minutes out, Rourke finally answered.
“Evelyn?”
His voice sounded terrified.
“Daniel.”
“You shouldn’t be calling me.”
“We need to talk about Lantern.”
Silence.
Then:
“Oh God.”
“What?”
“He found you.”
“Vale?”
Rourke breathed heavily.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
“I can’t.”
“Daniel.”
“He’ll kill me.”
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“We’re ten minutes away.”
“No!”
His fear became panic.
“Do not come here.”
“Why?”
“Because he knows you’re coming.”
The line went dead.
Barrett looked at me.
“Trap?”
“Probably.”
“Turn around?”
“No.”
His mouth tightened.
“I figured.”
We approached the cabin without headlights.
No visible movement.
One light burned inside.
Barrett checked his weapon.
I checked mine.
We entered through the rear.
Kitchen clear.
Hallway clear.
Living room.
Daniel Rourke sat in a chair facing us.
Alive.
Hands visible.
“Daniel.”
He looked older.
Much older.
“Evelyn.”
Then I saw the wire around his chest.
Barrett saw it too.
Explosive vest.
“Don’t move,” Rourke whispered.
A red light blinked.
Barrett froze.
“Pressure trigger?”
Rourke shook his head.
“Remote.”
“Who has it?”
Rourke looked toward the dark hallway.
My weapon came up.
“Thomas?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Tears filled Rourke’s eyes.
“The person who gave him the order.”
A floorboard creaked behind us.
Barrett turned.
A figure stood at the end of the hallway.
Tall.
Gray hair.
Military posture.
He stepped into the light.
I lowered my weapon without meaning to.
Because I knew him.
The man who had recruited me seventeen years earlier.
The man who had authorized Lantern.
May you like
General Malcolm Voss looked directly at me.
Then he raised the detonator in his hand.
