Chapter 5 - THE BETRAYAL AT HOMEBy the time I reached the command vehicle, the attack was already over.
One agent had a cut across his forehead.
Another was kneeling beside a shattered window.
Miriam stood outside, furious.
Evan was safe.
That was the first thing I saw.
The second was that the secure case containing Nathan's wafer was gone.
“They knew exactly where it was,” Miriam said.
“How?”
“No idea.”
“Tracking device?”
“Vehicle sweep was clean.”
Evan stepped toward me.
“I saw him.”
“Who?”
“A man. Maybe forty. Baseball cap. He came through the side window after something hit the front.”
“What hit the front?”
“Flash device.”
Miriam pointed toward the ground.
“Military-grade diversionary charge.”
That narrowed nothing in Sloane's world.
Chase came out of the warehouse behind me.
Two agents immediately moved toward him.
He raised his hands.
“I get it.”
Miriam stared at him.
“You are extremely fortunate that Commander Maddox doesn't believe in leaving idiots behind.”
Chase looked at me.
“She said basically the same thing.”
“Then listen.”
He did.
For once.
The next six hours destroyed whatever remained of the Maddox family's Thanksgiving.
Federal investigators searched Chase's apartment.
They seized three computers, two phones, contract records, and a storage locker key.
Graham's home became a controlled scene.
Diane cried when agents arrived.
Evan's grandmother went upstairs and calmly went to bed, announcing that anyone who had survived three husbands and a hip replacement could survive federal agents in the dining room.
I liked her more than ever.
At 3:20 a.m., we discovered the worst part.
Someone had been inside Graham's study before Thanksgiving dinner.
A hidden camera was embedded inside the smoke detector.
It had a direct view of the compass display.
The surveillance system had been active for eleven days.
Graham sat heavily in his chair when we told him.
“So this started before tonight.”
“Yes.”
He looked toward Chase.
His son sat across the room under supervision.
“You brought this into my house.”
Chase's voice was low.
“I didn't know.”
“You took Nathan's compass.”
“I was going to put it back.”
“You did put it back.”
Graham's anger rose.
“After opening it.”
“Yes.”
“And handing what you found to a man you barely knew.”
“I knew Sloane for four years.”
“You knew the version of him he sold you.”
Chase looked at the floor.
“Dad—”
“You wanted to embarrass me?”
Chase looked up sharply.
I remembered what he had told me.
Graham apparently didn't know.
“Why?”
Chase said nothing.
Graham stood.
“Why?”
“Because I was sick of it.”
“Sick of what?”
“Being your disappointment!”
The room went still.
Graham recoiled slightly.
Chase's words came faster.
“You think I don't know? Every time Nathan's name came up, you talked about honor. Discipline. Courage. Every time Evan got promoted at school, you said he had chosen a respectable life.”
Evan stared at him.
Chase pointed at his brother.
“You thought he was soft.”
Then he pointed toward himself.
“And you thought I was selfish.”
Graham's face changed.
“I never said that.”
“You didn't have to.”
Diane stepped forward.
“Chase, your father loves you.”
“That's not the same as respecting me.”
Nobody answered.
Because everyone in that room understood he was telling at least part of the truth.
Pain can explain cruelty.
It does not excuse it.
But pretending pain isn't there only guarantees it will find another target.
Chase looked at me.
“And then Lauren showed up.”
I frowned.
He laughed bitterly.
“She didn't care what Dad thought. Didn't care when Mom made comments. Didn't care when I joked about her job.”
“I cared.”
He blinked.
“I just didn't react.”
That seemed to land harder.
“I thought you didn't react because you were weak.”
“No.”
“I know that now.”
He looked ashamed.
Graham rubbed both hands over his face.
Evan moved beside me.
“You also treated me like garbage, Chase.”
Chase's jaw tightened.
“I know.”
“No. Don't say it like you're checking a box.”
Evan stepped forward.
“You mocked my job, my house, my salary, my wife. Every time we were all together, you had to prove you were the most successful person in the room.”
Chase looked away.
“I know.”
“Why?”
Chase laughed once.
“Because if I wasn't, what was left?”
The answer was sad.
It was also infuriating.
Evan shook his head.
“You had us.”
Chase closed his eyes.
That ended the argument.
At 5:07 a.m., Miriam entered carrying a tablet.
“We recovered something.”
Everyone looked at her.
“From Chase's storage unit.”
Chase frowned.
“What?”
“A delivery envelope.”
He seemed genuinely confused.
“What envelope?”
“Addressed to you. No return address. Dated three weeks ago.”
She displayed a photograph.
Inside the envelope was a handwritten note.
Three words.
ASK ABOUT NORTHSTAR.
Beneath it was a photocopy of Nathan Ward's old personnel photograph.
Chase went pale.
“I've never seen that.”
“Your prints are not on it.”
“Then who put it there?”
“We're working on that.”
I stared at the photograph.
Something bothered me.
“Zoom in.”
Miriam did.
Nathan was standing outside a hangar.
Behind him was part of an aircraft tail.
A number was visible.
My heartbeat changed.
I knew that aircraft.
Not because I had flown it.
Because it had never officially existed.
“This isn't a personnel photograph.”
Miriam looked at me.
“You're right.”
“This was taken during Northstar.”
Graham stood.
“What?”
The picture showed Nathan during the classified deployment.
Which meant whoever sent it either had access to the archive or had physically been there.
Miriam looked toward Chase.
“Sloane didn't recruit you accidentally.”
I took the tablet.
“He needed access to Graham.”
“And he knew resentment would get him there.”
Chase stared at the floor.
Someone had studied the family.
Found the fracture.
Pushed exactly where it hurt.
I felt less anger toward Chase for one second.
Then remembered he had still made his choices.
Miriam's phone buzzed.
She answered, listened, and walked out.
When she returned, her expression had changed.
“We found Sloane's SUV.”
“Where?”
“Burned out near the state line.”
“Body?”
“No.”
“Wafer?”
“No.”
I already knew there would be nothing useful.
“What about the attacker who took the case?”
“Traffic camera captured a vehicle.”
She showed me.
A dark pickup.
Virginia plates.
Registered owner:
DANIEL HARPER.
Graham made a sound behind me.
I turned.
His face had gone white.
“You know him.”
Graham sat down.
“Dan Harper was Nathan's crew chief.”
My skin prickled.
“Northstar?”
He nodded.
“I thought he died.”
“When?”
“Same year as Nathan.”
Miriam stared at him.
“He didn't.”
Graham looked confused.
“Yes, he did.”
“No,” Miriam said quietly. “Daniel Harper is alive.”
She turned the tablet.
A recent driver's-license photograph appeared.
Older.
Heavier.
But unmistakably the same man.
Graham whispered, “My God.”
I looked at Miriam.
“Where does he live?”
“Virginia Beach.”
“How long?”
“Seventeen years.”
That was impossible.
Or it should have been.
A man connected to Nathan Ward, officially believed dead by Graham, had been living less than fifteen miles away.
Not hiding overseas.
Not under a false identity.
Right here.
“Why would Graham think he died?”
Miriam looked at the records.
“Because someone told him.”
“Who?”
She scrolled.
Then stopped.
Nobody liked her expression.
“Miriam.”
She looked at Graham.
“The casualty notification came through Colonel Robert Maddox.”
Graham's brother.
Evan and Chase's uncle.
A man who had been sitting at our Thanksgiving table.
A man who had left forty minutes before the Northstar archive was breached.
And suddenly I remembered exactly where Uncle Robert had been sitting when the coin rolled across the floor.
May you like
Close enough to read the name.
Close enough to know what it meant.
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