Chapter 4 - The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Naomi raised her weapon.
The man outside did not run.
He simply held the folder against the glass.
Then he removed his hood.
Harrison staggered backward.
“No.”
Patricia screamed.
I knew the face from photographs.
Martin Vale.
The dead cybersecurity consultant.
Alive.
Naomi ordered the exterior team toward the garden.
Vale raised one finger to his lips.
Then disappeared from the window.
We reached the rear terrace thirty seconds later.
He was gone.
But the folder remained on a stone bench.
Naomi stopped everyone from touching it.
Bomb technicians examined it.
Clean.
Inside were seventeen pages.
The first contained names.
The third name was indeed Admiral Thomas Reyes.
But beside every name was a symbol.
Two categories.
A black circle.
A red triangle.
Reyes had a red triangle.
“What do they mean?” I asked Harrison.
“I don't know.”
I scanned the others.
Engineers.
Contractors.
Naval personnel.
A senator's defense aide.
Three foreign names.
Then one that made me stop.
DANIEL MERCER.
My husband's name carried a black circle.
I looked up.
Daniel was staring at the page.
“I've never seen this.”
Harrison whispered, “Daniel?”
“Dad, I swear.”
I believed him.
But belief wasn't evidence.
Naomi separated us for questioning.
It hurt more than I expected.
Daniel and I had built our marriage around trust, even when my career forced me to keep certain details classified.
Now his name appeared in a dead man's secret file.
Or a not-dead man's file.
Three hours later, Vale contacted us.
Not by phone.
Through the television.
Every screen in Harrison's house suddenly changed.
Static.
Then Vale appeared.
He sat in darkness.
“If you're watching this,” he said, “they found the file.”
Naomi ordered technicians to trace the signal.
Vale continued.
“Harrison Mercer made mistakes. Serious ones. But he did not create Nightglass.”
Harrison closed his eyes.
“The modified components were requested by people inside the program itself.”
My stomach tightened.
“Admiral Reyes discovered the breach. He tried to stop it.”
I stared at the red triangle beside Reyes's name.
Not suspect.
Target.
Vale explained the symbols.
Red triangles were people marked for elimination.
Black circles were people being used without their knowledge.
Daniel.
Used.
Relief lasted half a second.
Then fear replaced it.
Vale looked into the camera.
“Commander Cross-Mercer, your husband was selected because of you.”
Daniel took my hand.
“Someone needed access to your routines, travel schedules and eventually your authentication.”
I felt sick.
“They didn't recruit Daniel. They recruited someone close enough to him that information could be collected naturally.”
Grant whispered, “Who?”
Vale answered as though he had heard him.
“The person is inside the Mercer family.”
The screen went black.
Nobody breathed.
Grant looked at Patricia.
Patricia looked at Harrison.
Daniel looked at his brother.
And suddenly Thanksgiving dinner felt like the least important confrontation of the evening.
Naomi ordered everyone separated.
Phones surrendered.
Devices collected.
Grant became angry again.
“Seriously? You think one of us is a spy?”
“I think,” Naomi said, “that someone has been collecting information about Commander Cross-Mercer.”
Grant pointed at me.
“We didn't even know what she did!”
“Exactly.”
I understood.
Whoever had gathered information might have known my real role before the rest of the family.
Just like Harrison had.
But Harrison's knowledge had come through Vale.
Who else?
Naomi's team began examining devices.
Patricia's tablet was clean.
Grant's laptop showed the unauthorized access but evidence suggested malware had captured his credentials.
Harrison's systems were compromised extensively.
Then they reached Daniel's phone.
Naomi called me privately.
“There are deleted messages.”
“From Daniel?”
“Received by him.”
“Who?”
“Unknown number.”
The first message was fourteen months old.
YOUR WIFE'S TRAVEL SCHEDULE CHANGED. WHY?
Daniel had replied:
WHO IS THIS?
Another arrived two weeks later.
DOES EVELYN STILL USE THE GOVERNMENT SEDAN?
Daniel blocked the number.
Months later, another number appeared.
IS YOUR WIFE HOME?
Again Daniel blocked it.
He had never mentioned them.
I confronted him.
He looked ashamed.
“I thought it was somebody messing with me.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because you already had enough to worry about.”
“Daniel.”
“I know.”
I walked away.
He caught my hand.
“I should have told you.”
“Yes.”
“I didn't give them anything.”
“I know.”
That mattered.
But so did the omission.
Trust could survive mistakes.
It could not survive continued secrecy.
“I need everything now,” I said. “Anything unusual. Anything you dismissed.”
Daniel thought.
Then his face changed.
“There was someone.”
“Who?”
“At Dad's company.”
My stomach tightened.
“A woman from compliance. She kept asking about you.”
“Name?”
“Claire Donnelly.”
Harrison heard us.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing important.”
“What did she ask?”
“Where Evelyn was stationed. Whether she traveled overseas. Stuff like that.”
Harrison swore.
Naomi asked, “Where is Donnelly now?”
Grant answered.
“She quit.”
“When?”
“Eight months ago.”
Same time Vale supposedly died.
We searched corporate records.
Claire Donnelly had existed on paper for three years.
No current address.
No valid driver's license.
The photograph in her personnel file showed a smiling brunette woman in her forties.
I recognized her.
Not personally.
From somewhere else.
Then I remembered.
The Thanksgiving table.
A framed photograph on Patricia's piano.
I walked into the sitting room.
There it was.
Same woman.
Ten years younger.
Standing beside Patricia at a charity gala.
I carried the photograph back.
“Who is she?”
Patricia saw it.
Her face collapsed.
“Where did you get that?”
“Your piano.”
Harrison looked stunned.
“Patricia?”
Grant said, “Mom, who is that?”
She sat down.
“My sister.”
Daniel stared.
“You don't have a sister.”
“I do.”
Nobody spoke.
“Her name isn't Claire Donnelly.”
“What is it?”
Patricia looked at me.
“Rebecca Shaw.”
Naomi asked, “Where is she?”
“I don't know.”
“When did you last see her?”
Patricia began shaking.
“Eight months ago.”
Again.
Eight months.
Vale's supposed death.
Claire's disappearance.
Patricia's last contact.
I crouched in front of her.
“What happened?”
“She told me Harrison's company was involved in something dangerous.”
“Why didn't you tell anyone?”
“She said if I did, Daniel would be killed.”
Daniel went still.
“She showed me photographs.”
“Of what?”
“Daniel leaving work. Grant at his apartment. You driving onto the naval base.”
My blood chilled.
“She knew who you were, Evelyn.”
“How?”
Patricia shook her head.
“She said she worked for people who knew everything.”
Naomi asked, “Did Rebecca ask you to do anything?”
Patricia didn't answer.
Harrison stared at her.
“Patricia.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I didn't have a choice.”
“What did you do?”
She looked at Daniel.
“I gave her access to the house.”
Grant swore.
Harrison stepped back as though struck.
“That access reader in my office?”
Patricia nodded.
“She installed it.”
“Why?”
“She said it was the only way to protect our sons.”
I stood.
Rebecca had manipulated Patricia.
Maybe.
Or Patricia was still hiding something.
My phone vibrated.
A secure notification.
Naomi looked at me.
“What?”
I opened it.
A live security alert from my apartment.
Someone had entered.
Daniel moved beside me.
“That's our place.”
The camera feed loaded.
Our living room was empty.
Then a woman walked into frame.
Brunette.
Forties.
Claire Donnelly.
Rebecca Shaw.
She stared directly into our security camera.
Then held up my dress uniform.
The uniform I was supposed to wear tomorrow.
Pinned to the chest was a handwritten note.
I zoomed in.
COME HOME, COMMANDER.
Rebecca smiled.
Then someone stepped into frame behind her.
A man.
Daniel whispered, “No way.”
I recognized him too.
May you like
Admiral Reyes.
And he was holding a gun.
