Chapter 4 - WHAT EVAN NEVER KNEWEvan insisted on coming.
I told him no.
He told me he wasn't asking.
Under normal circumstances, that might have started an argument.
These were not normal circumstances.
Captain Cole compromised.
Evan could ride with us as far as the command vehicle, provided he followed every instruction without debate.
“That includes staying in the vehicle,” she told him.
“I understand.”
“You don't improvise.”
“I understand.”
“You don't suddenly decide family loyalty gives you tactical expertise.”
Evan glanced toward me.
“I'm a high school principal. I barely have authority over teenagers carrying energy drinks.”
Miriam almost smiled.
“Good. Self-awareness keeps people alive.”
Our destination was an abandoned marina storage complex near Back Bay.
The coordinates Chase sent led to a warehouse once used by one of Victor Sloane's logistics companies.
That fact removed any remaining possibility of coincidence.
During the drive, Evan sat beside me in the rear seat.
He remained silent for fifteen minutes.
Then he said, “Were you really a pilot?”
I looked at him.
“You know I went through flight training.”
“You told me you had.”
“You came to one of my squadron reunions.”
“You said you stopped flying.”
“I stopped talking about flying.”
His jaw tightened.
“That's different.”
“Yes.”
“What did you fly?”
I looked toward Miriam.
She continued reading her tablet as though we weren't there.
“F/A-18s.”
Evan stared.
“What?”
“Super Hornets.”
“You told my family you worked in operations.”
“No. You told your family I worked in operations.”
He looked away.
That hit exactly where I intended it to.
Maybe harder.
“You could have corrected me.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you?”
I watched dark trees pass outside.
“At first? Because I thought it was funny.”
His eyebrows rose.
“Funny?”
“Your father spent the entire first dinner explaining aircraft carrier operations to me.”
Despite himself, Evan almost smiled.
“He did.”
“He drew diagrams on a napkin.”
“He does that.”
“Then your mother told me female service members were ‘so brave these days’ for taking administrative jobs that allowed men to deploy.”
Evan covered his eyes.
“I forgot that.”
“I didn't.”
“Lauren—”
“I chose not to correct them. Then you started minimizing what I did.”
He lowered his hand.
“I wasn't trying to disrespect you.”
“I know.”
“I thought I was protecting you from Dad.”
“From what?”
His answer took too long.
“Comparison.”
There it was.
The truth.
Not mine.
His.
I turned toward him.
“He compared you to Chase.”
“All my life.”
I had suspected it.
I hadn't known how deep it went.
“Chase was the football captain. Chase had the big personality. Chase started businesses. Chase knew how to work every room.”
“And you became a teacher.”
“Principal.”
“Exactly.”
He smiled bitterly.
“Dad called it safe.”
I understood then.
Evan had not minimized me because he was ashamed of me.
He had minimized me because he was afraid that once his father knew what I really was, there would be one more person in the family against whom Evan could feel inadequate.
That didn't excuse it.
But it changed it.
“I wish you had told me.”
“So do I.”
The command vehicle slowed.
Miriam looked back.
“We're close.”
The conversation ended.
But something between Evan and me had shifted.
Not healed.
Shifted.
The warehouse sat half a mile from the water.
Thermal surveillance showed four people inside.
One was likely Chase.
Three others unidentified.
No indication Sloane had brought more.
That concerned me.
Men like Victor Sloane did not make mistakes this simple.
“It's bait,” I said.
Miriam nodded.
“Obviously.”
“What does he actually want?”
“The coin.”
“No. He can make a coin.”
“The registry?”
“Maybe.”
The Northstar coin contained no electronics.
No secret code.
Its value was symbolic.
Unless someone thought otherwise.
Nathan had given it to me during the final minutes before the extraction aircraft arrived.
He had been bleeding badly.
The coin was in his hand.
“Take this,” he told me.
I had resisted.
“Keep it.”
“No.”
“Nathan—”
“North star gets you home.”
Those were the last complete words he ever spoke to me.
For nine years, I had believed he was simply giving me his challenge coin because he knew he would not survive.
What if I was wrong?
I pulled the coin from my pocket.
Under the command vehicle's red light, I examined it closely.
Silver star.
Black surface.
Date on the reverse.
I ran my fingernail around the edge.
Nothing.
Miriam noticed.
“What?”
“I don't know.”
I handed it to her.
She turned it.
Then pressed one of the star points.
There was a tiny click.
We stared at each other.
Miriam twisted the face.
It unscrewed.
Inside was a paper-thin metallic disk.
Nobody spoke.
“That's impossible,” I whispered.
Nathan's compass had been a decoy.
The storage wafer had been inside the coin all along.
For nine years.
With me.
Miriam whispered, “Jesus Christ.”
I thought about every move.
Every apartment.
Every deployment.
Every airport.
I had carried the evidence through all of it.
Evan's voice came from behind us.
“What is that?”
Miriam closed her fist.
“Something people have killed for.”
Evan went pale.
I took the wafer.
“No.”
Miriam looked at me.
“Lauren.”
“If Sloane sees the coin altered, he may hurt Chase.”
“We can't give him the actual data.”
“We aren't.”
We replaced the wafer with an identical blank from the technical kit.
The operation moved quickly from there.
At 9:52, I walked toward the warehouse alone.
At least, that was what anyone watching would see.
A surveillance team covered the north side.
A tactical unit waited beyond the tree line.
Miriam coordinated from the command post.
The Northstar coin sat inside my coat pocket.
I entered through a partially open rolling door.
Chase was tied to a metal chair.
His left eye was swollen.
Two men stood behind him.
Victor Sloane waited near a portable heater.
He was in his late fifties, silver-haired, expensive coat, hands in pockets.
He looked more like an investment banker than a traitor.
“Commander Mercer.”
Chase's head snapped toward me.
“Commander?”
Even now, that almost made me laugh.
Sloane noticed.
“You didn't know?”
Chase stared at me.
I ignored him.
“Let him go.”
Sloane smiled.
“The coin first.”
I took it out.
His eyes locked onto it.
There.
Recognition.
Hunger.
“You've been looking for this a long time,” I said.
“Nine years.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“No, you want me to confess while your friends listen.”
Smart.
I smiled.
“So you do remember Northstar.”
Something flickered in his face.
Enough.
Chase looked between us.
“What the hell is going on?”
Sloane glanced down at him.
“You were useful until you weren't.”
Chase's face hardened.
“You said it was proof Dad had been lied to.”
“I say many things.”
Chase looked at me.
For the first time that night, arrogance was gone.
“What did I do?”
I didn't answer.
Not because I wanted to punish him.
Because Sloane was reaching into his coat.
“Hands where I can see them.”
He smiled.
“You were always fast.”
“Hands.”
He slowly removed one hand.
Empty.
Then the lights went out.
Complete darkness.
A gunshot cracked through the warehouse.
Chase shouted.
I moved.
Training took over.
I dropped behind a steel pallet, drew the sidearm issued to me before entering, and heard two more shots.
Outside, someone yelled.
Then emergency lights flickered red.
Sloane was running toward the rear exit.
One of his men lay on the ground.
The other was dragging Chase's chair backward.
I aimed.
“Let him go.”
The man fired.
I returned one controlled shot.
He dropped the weapon and screamed, clutching his shoulder.
I ran to Chase.
“Are you hit?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“I think so.”
“Then shut up and stay down.”
I cut the restraint around one wrist.
Behind me, an engine roared.
Sloane.
I ran toward the rear door.
Too late.
A black SUV tore through the gravel lot and disappeared between the trees.
Tactical vehicles followed.
I returned to Chase.
He was standing now, rubbing his wrists.
He stared at me.
Not with respect.
Not yet.
With shock.
“You're really a commander.”
I cut the last restraint from his ankle.
“Yes.”
“You're really a pilot?”
“Yes.”
He swallowed.
“Did you just come in here knowing they might shoot you?”
“Yes.”
“Because of me?”
I looked at him.
“Don't make this more sentimental than it is.”
His face fell.
“You are my husband's brother. You were in danger. We came.”
He looked toward the doorway where armed personnel were entering.
“I screwed up.”
“Yes.”
“Bad?”
“Very.”
He nodded slowly.
Then his eyes filled.
That surprised me.
“I thought Sloane was helping me.”
“Helping you do what?”
He swallowed.
“Prove Dad was a hypocrite.”
I frowned.
“What?”
Chase looked away.
“He always talked about Nathan Ward like he was some hero. Better than everybody. Better than me.”
“Graham never compared you to Nathan.”
“You don't know Dad.”
“No. But I know men like Nathan.”
Chase looked back.
“I wanted something Dad didn't know.”
“What did you take from the compass?”
“A little silver chip.”
My pulse jumped.
“You gave it to Sloane?”
“Yes.”
“Three weeks ago?”
He nodded.
The wafer in our possession suddenly felt less important.
Because if there had been two storage devices—
“What happened after you gave it to him?”
“He said it was blank.”
“Was it?”
“I don't know.”
“Think.”
Chase rubbed his bruised face.
“He got angry.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“What exactly did he say?”
Chase closed his eyes.
Then repeated:
“He said, ‘The pilot has the real archive.’”
My blood went cold.
Sloane hadn't learned about my coin at Thanksgiving.
He had already known.
Tonight had only confirmed that I still possessed it.
The entire kidnapping had been designed to get me to bring it out of secure storage.
And I had walked straight into his plan.
My earpiece crackled.
Miriam's voice.
“Lauren, we have a problem.”
“What?”
“The command vehicle has been breached.”
I turned toward the open warehouse.
Evan.
The real wafer.
May you like
Everything important was back there.
I ran.
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