Chapter 5 - The Woman Above the Admiral
Admiral Evelyn Kane called Mara before sunrise.
Mara stared at the ringing phone.
Cross stood beside her.
Ryan sat nearby with an ice pack against his jaw.
Shaw, Boone, and Holt remained silent.
Kane's name glowed on the screen.
Cross said, "Don't answer."
Mara did.
"Commander Vance."
Kane sounded exactly as she always did.
Controlled.
Precise.
"Mara. Where are you?"
"Busy night."
"I heard there was an incident at the depot."
"Interesting."
Pause.
"What is?"
"Nobody has officially reported it."
Silence.
Then Kane sighed.
"You found Cross."
Mara looked at him.
So much for pretending.
"Apparently everybody knew he was alive except me."
"That was necessary."
"Was crippling me necessary too?"
Kane's voice hardened.
"What?"
Mara listened closely.
Surprise sounded genuine.
But Mara had survived interrogations where truth and lies occupied the same sentence.
"Four men attacked me."
"Names."
"Why?"
"So I can arrest them."
"Mercer's already working for Rourke."
Another silence.
Longer.
Kane said, "Where is Stephen?"
"Missing."
"Then you're in danger."
"That's generous."
"Mara, listen to me."
"I've been doing that for eleven years."
"And I have never deliberately put you in unnecessary danger."
"Unnecessary is doing a lot of work there."
Cross signaled for her to keep Kane talking.
Kane continued.
"Palisade has compromised portions of Naval command."
"I know."
"You don't know how deeply."
"Enlighten me."
"I can't over an unsecured line."
Mara almost laughed.
"My phone has been communicating with dead men all night. Security isn't exactly my biggest problem."
Kane lowered her voice.
"Come to my office."
Cross shook his head.
Mara said, "Why?"
"Because I can prove I am not your enemy."
"Can you prove you weren't in Cross's command center?"
Another pause.
"What are you talking about?"
Mara sent the photograph.
Kane received it.
Silence.
Then:
"That image is impossible."
"Popular word tonight."
"Mara, that isn't me."
"It has your face."
"It has my face."
Cross leaned closer.
Mara asked, "Meaning?"
"Palisade has used synthetic images for years."
Mara looked toward the evidence recovered from E-17.
Of course.
Rourke had threatened fabricated footage.
Kane could be telling the truth.
Or exploiting what Mara already knew.
Kane said, "Come in. Bring Cross."
"No."
"Mara—"
"I choose location."
Silence.
"Fine."
Mara named a public military hospital.
Trauma wing.
Cameras.
Security.
Too many witnesses for easy disappearance.
Kane agreed.
One hour later, Mara finally allowed herself to become a patient.
Doctors took one look at her imaging and stopped asking whether she could "just manage" with temporary splints.
Both tibias fractured.
Left fibula fractured.
Ligament damage.
Surgery required.
Mara listened.
"How long until I walk?"
The orthopedic surgeon stared at her.
"Commander, I'm still trying to make sure you walk normally."
"Estimate."
"Months."
The word hurt worse than she expected.
Months.
She had recovered from bullets.
Concussions.
A shoulder reconstruction.
But legs were identity in special warfare.
Run.
Climb.
Jump.
Carry.
Fight.
Months meant missing qualification cycles.
Command review.
Medical boards.
Possibly the end.
The surgeon seemed to read her face.
"Recovery can be excellent."
"Can be."
"You're strong."
Mara looked at her legs.
"Apparently not strong enough."
The surgeon frowned.
She regretted saying it.
Not because it was weak.
Because it sounded like Mercer.
You're finished.
No.
She refused to let his voice become hers.
Mara underwent surgery that morning.
Kane arrived while she was still in recovery.
Cross remained nearby.
Mara woke to find both mentors standing on opposite sides of the room.
Like parents in the world's most dysfunctional family.
Kane looked older than Mara remembered.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
"You look terrible," Kane said.
Mara croaked, "You always know what to say."
Kane almost smiled.
Cross didn't.
"Show her."
Kane pulled a file from her bag.
Not digital.
Paper.
Old-fashioned.
Harder to alter remotely.
She handed Mara a photograph.
Nathan Cross.
Stephen Rourke.
Evelyn Kane.
Taken twelve years earlier.
Three officers at a classified planning center.
On the back:
PALISADE WORKING GROUP.
Mara looked up.
Kane said, "We created it."
Cross went still.
"You told me Rourke created Palisade."
"I told you he ran it."
"That's not the same thing."
"No."
Mara felt anger rising through medication haze.
"Start talking."
Kane sat.
"Twelve years ago, Palisade wasn't criminal. It was an emergency logistics program."
"For what?"
"Keeping special operations units supplied in politically restricted regions when formal procurement couldn't move fast enough."
Cross stared.
"Black channels."
"Controlled channels."
"Until Rourke sold them."
Kane nodded.
"Yes."
Mara looked at Cross.
"You knew?"
"Not that she helped create it."
Kane continued.
"The original Palisade had oversight from three people. Rourke. Me. Admiral Marcus Vale."
Mara knew Vale.
Retired six years ago.
Died two years ago.
"All dead or corrupt except you."
Kane looked at her.
"That's what worries me."
She opened another page.
Original authorization signatures.
Rourke.
Kane.
Vale.
And one additional signature.
Observer authority.
Nathan Cross.
Mara turned.
Cross's expression changed.
Kane said quietly, "Ask him."
Mara held up the page.
"Nathan."
Cross stared.
"I was assigned as security observer."
"You knew Palisade existed for twelve years."
"Yes."
"You never told me."
"No."
"You investigated it later."
"When I realized Rourke had changed it."
Mara laughed bitterly.
"Everyone keeps protecting me with lies."
Cross said, "You weren't involved."
"Until someone used my credentials."
"We needed an uncontaminated commander."
Mara stared at him.
"That's why I got promoted?"
Kane answered.
"Partly."
Mara turned toward her.
"Partly?"
"We needed someone Rourke couldn't own."
"So you positioned me as bait."
"No."
"Then what would you call it?"
Kane's eyes filled with something Mara rarely saw there.
Regret.
"A calculated risk."
Mara looked away.
Those were dangerous words.
Men like Rourke built empires from them.
Kane handed over another document.
"This may help."
Mara read.
It listed financial transfers.
Not Rourke.
Someone higher.
Code name:
ARCHITECT.
Cross said, "I've been chasing that name for a year."
Kane nodded.
"I know."
"Who is it?"
"I don't know."
Mara examined the transactions.
One routing institution stood out.
Pacific Crown Trust.
Ryan worked there.
Mara looked toward the door.
"Where's Ryan?"
Cross checked his phone.
"He went to get coffee twenty minutes ago."
Mara's pulse accelerated.
"Call him."
Cross did.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Kane activated hospital security.
They searched.
Camera footage showed Ryan entering an elevator.
Alone.
Camera switched to lobby.
He never exited.
Cross pulled elevator service logs.
The car stopped at parking level B3.
No cameras there.
Mara tried to sit up.
Pain stopped her.
Cross said, "Stay."
"Don't tell me to stay."
"You just had surgery."
"Find my brother."
They reached B3.
Ryan's phone lay on the concrete floor.
Beside it was a coffee cup.
Still warm.
Cross picked up the phone.
Screen shattered.
A text remained open.
FROM: MARA VANCE
COME TO B3. I FOUND ROURKE.
Mara had never sent it.
Kane stared.
"They cloned your number."
Cross looked around.
A wheelchair sat nearby.
Empty.
On the seat was an envelope.
Mara's name was written across it.
Cross opened it.
Inside was one photograph.
Ryan seated at a table.
Alive.
Beside him sat Rear Admiral Rourke.
Across from them was a third person.
Only the back of the person's head showed.
Mara flipped the photograph.
A message:
ASK YOUR MOTHER WHO ARCHITECT IS.
Mara stopped.
Cross looked at her.
Kane whispered, "Your mother?"
Mara's mother had died nine years ago.
At least, that was what Mara had been told.
Then Cross's phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A woman's voice spoke.
"Mara."
Mara's entire body went cold.
She knew that voice before Cross put it on speaker.
May you like
Her mother said:
"Sweetheart, please don't trust Nathan."
