Chapter 2 - The Dead Man's Warning
The silhouette remained beyond the half-open loading door.
Mercer's pistol came free.
"Identify yourself!"
No answer.
Holt moved to Mercer's flank.
Boone stepped behind a steel support column.
Shaw stayed frozen.
Mara remained on the floor.
Pain had become a constant pressure now, almost useful in its consistency.
She watched the opening.
The silhouette moved forward.
Then the warehouse lights died.
Blackness.
Someone cursed.
A gunshot cracked.
Metal rang.
Mara dropped flat and rolled behind the nearest equipment case, dragging her useless legs with both arms.
Agony tore through her.
She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.
Another shot.
"STOP FIRING!" Shaw yelled.
Emergency lights flickered on.
Red illumination flooded the depot.
The loading bay was empty.
Nobody stood there.
Mercer spun in a circle.
"Where did he go?"
Holt checked the door.
"No footprints."
"That's impossible."
Mara noticed something else.
Her phone was gone.
Mercer looked down at his empty hand.
"What the—"
A voice came over the depot's public-address system.
"Mara."
Every man looked upward.
Nathan Cross's voice.
Calm.
Low.
Unmistakable.
Mara had heard it over gunfire in Afghanistan.
Through sandstorms.
Inside helicopters.
Once while she was bleeding from a shoulder wound and Cross had ordered her to stay awake by insulting her terrible taste in music.
She knew that voice.
"Mara, listen carefully."
Her throat tightened.
Mercer shouted, "Who are you?"
The speaker ignored him.
"The men surrounding you aren't the operation."
Mara looked at Mercer.
His face changed.
"They're the cleanup."
Boone whispered, "No."
Mercer glared at him.
"What?"
Boone stared toward the ceiling.
"They told us nobody else knew."
Mara filed the words away.
They.
Not he.
Not Mercer.
Someone above them.
Cross's voice continued.
"The shipment moves at 0200."
Mara checked the wall clock.
01:37.
Twenty-three minutes.
"Container E-17."
Mercer shouted, "Kill the speakers!"
Holt sprinted toward the electrical panel.
Cross continued.
"Don't let it leave Coronado."
Holt ripped the panel open.
The speakers died.
Silence.
Mara looked at Boone.
"What is E-17?"
Boone said nothing.
Mara raised her voice.
"What is in that container?"
Mercer turned toward Boone.
"Don't answer."
Mara watched the power dynamic shifting.
Mercer had been leader when they believed the situation controlled.
Now information was leaking.
Boone looked terrified.
Shaw looked betrayed.
Holt looked toward the loading bay as though expecting ghosts.
Mara used the fracture.
"Whatever Mercer told you," she said, "he lied."
Mercer snapped, "Shut up."
Mara ignored him.
"He told you this was about protecting an operation."
Boone's eyes confirmed it.
"He said I was compromised."
Shaw's jaw tightened.
"He told you I was selling classified information."
Shaw stared at Mercer.
Mara had guessed correctly.
She continued.
"He probably showed you evidence."
No answer.
"Bank transfers. Messages. Maybe photographs."
Holt returned from the panel.
"How do you know?"
"Because that's how you recruit good men into doing bad things."
Mercer aimed his weapon toward Mara.
"Enough."
Shaw stepped between them.
"Put it down."
Everyone froze.
Mercer stared.
"What did you say?"
Shaw's breathing accelerated.
"You said we were detaining her until investigators arrived."
Mercer laughed once.
"Does this look like a detention?"
"No."
"Then stop pretending."
"You said her injuries were an accident."
Mercer glanced toward Mara's legs.
Shaw's expression twisted with disgust.
"You planned this."
Mercer raised the pistol.
Holt moved immediately.
He grabbed Mercer's wrist.
The weapon fired into the ceiling.
Boone tackled Mercer.
All three crashed against a crate.
Shaw pulled the pistol away.
Mara dragged herself farther behind cover.
For several seconds, trained men fought like frightened civilians.
Then Holt managed to pin Mercer against the floor.
Boone stepped away, breathing hard.
Mercer laughed.
Actually laughed.
"You idiots."
Shaw kept the gun trained on him.
"Who gave you the order?"
Mercer smiled.
"You think this ends because you changed your mind?"
"Name him."
"You'll be dead before breakfast."
Boone looked sick.
Mara spoke.
"Container E-17."
Everyone turned.
"Where?"
Boone hesitated.
Mercer shouted, "DON'T!"
Boone pointed toward the eastern loading dock.
"Secondary storage."
Mara checked the clock.
01:41.
"Nineteen minutes."
Shaw looked at her legs.
"You can't move."
"I noticed."
"We need medical."
"Later."
"Commander—"
"Lieutenant, if Cross is right, we have nineteen minutes before evidence leaves the base."
Shaw stared.
"Cross is dead."
"Then someone wants us to believe he's alive."
"Why?"
"I intend to find out."
Holt bound Mercer's wrists with plastic restraints.
Boone retrieved a collapsible utility chair used for warehouse maintenance.
Mara almost laughed.
Her rescue vehicle was a battered rolling chair with one broken armrest.
Holt helped lift her carefully.
The movement nearly made her black out.
She breathed through it.
Shaw crouched.
"Both legs?"
"Probably fractures."
"You need a hospital."
"I need E-17."
He nodded reluctantly.
They moved.
Holt pushed Mara through narrow aisles while Shaw led with Mercer's pistol.
Boone followed.
Mercer remained restrained against a support beam.
As they passed aisle seven, Mara looked up at the camera.
Red light.
Watching.
She raised one hand.
Two fingers.
An old Black Harbor signal.
QUESTION.
The camera moved.
Barely.
Left.
Right.
No.
Mara's chest tightened.
Someone controlled it live.
She signaled again.
FRIEND?
The camera paused.
Then tilted downward once.
Yes.
Impossible.
They reached secondary storage.
Container E-17 sat alone behind a chain barrier.
Large.
Gray.
Unmarked except for transport numbers.
Shaw cut the chain.
Holt examined the electronic lock.
"Military encryption."
Mara said, "Use my command authorization."
"They probably revoked it."
"Try."
Holt entered Mara's credentials.
ACCESS DENIED.
Boone cursed.
Mara stared at the keypad.
"Cross had a bypass."
Shaw looked at her.
"What?"
"Black Harbor used six-digit emergency codes."
"Do you remember his?"
Mara did.
She had never forgotten.
The date Cross's younger brother died.
Holt entered it.
Green light.
The container unlocked.
Nobody spoke.
Cross's dead credentials had just opened active military storage.
Holt pulled the door.
Inside were no weapons.
No explosives.
No contraband.
There were servers.
Rows of encrypted drives.
Satellite uplink equipment.
Hard cases filled with files.
And photographs.
Hundreds of photographs pinned across a portable evidence board.
Mara rolled closer.
Every photograph showed military personnel.
Officers.
Contractors.
Politicians.
Intelligence officials.
Some faces she recognized.
Others she didn't.
Red lines connected names.
Bank accounts.
Operational codes.
Dates.
At the center of the board was Mara's photograph.
Beneath it:
SUBJECT VANCE — TERMINATION AUTHORIZED.
Shaw whispered, "Jesus."
Holt opened a nearby file.
His face went pale.
"Commander."
He handed it over.
Mara read.
Operation Palisade.
A covert procurement network siphoning military equipment, intelligence technology, and classified access to private buyers.
The documents went back years.
Nathan Cross's name appeared repeatedly.
Not as a member.
As an investigator.
Mara turned pages.
Cross had discovered Palisade three years earlier.
He had built a case.
Then he died.
Mara found the accident report.
Attached was a confidential amendment.
DEATH FACILITATED.
Her stomach hardened.
They murdered him.
A noise came behind them.
Shaw spun.
Mercer stood in the doorway.
No restraints.
Holt reached for his weapon.
Mercer smiled.
"You should've gone to the hospital."
Three armed men appeared behind him.
Not sailors.
Black tactical clothing.
No insignia.
Mercer looked at Mara.
"The container wasn't meant to leave."
Mara understood.
"It was bait."
"Exactly."
The warehouse doors slammed shut.
Locking automatically.
May you like
Mercer raised his pistol.
"And now everyone who saw what's inside dies with it."
