Chapter 5 - The Survivor
Commander Ethan Cross woke in darkness.
His wrists were restrained.
His head ached.
The last thing he remembered was leaving the medical facility at Mercer under armed escort.
They had told him he was being transferred for debriefing.
Then the vehicle stopped.
A medic injected something into his arm.
Now he could hear water dripping somewhere nearby.
Cross tested the restraints.
Metal chair.
Concrete floor.
No obvious windows.
A door opened.
Colonel Vale entered.
Cross smiled without humor.
“I wondered how long it would take.”
Vale closed the door.
“You caused a serious problem.”
“I survived?”
“You recovered material you were not authorized to possess.”
Cross leaned back.
“There it is.”
Vale stood across from him.
“Where is the drive?”
“What drive?”
Vale’s expression remained flat.
Cross had spent twenty years studying dangerous men.
The loud ones were usually predictable.
The quiet ones required attention.
Vale belonged to the second category.
“You entered the structure at grid Delta-Seven,” Vale said.
“Did I?”
“You removed something.”
“Then you know more about my mission than my own briefing.”
Vale’s jaw tightened.
Cross continued.
“We were told Delta-Seven was a communications relay.”
“It was.”
“No. It was an archive.”
Vale said nothing.
Cross remembered the underground room.
The rusted cabinets.
The power generator that should not have been operational.
The rows of encrypted storage devices.
And the ledger.
Not money.
Names.
Shipments.
Authorizations.
Approvals.
Years of them.
Cross had copied only a fraction before the first attack began.
He had hidden the storage device before extraction.
Not on his body.
Not inside his gear.
Somewhere no one would expect.
Vale leaned closer.
“Three hundred eighty-one men nearly died because you deviated from your assigned search area.”
Cross laughed once.
“We nearly died because someone gave our extraction aircraft the wrong valley.”
Vale’s eyes narrowed.
Cross had suspected that information was important.
Now he knew.
“Our communications failed exactly when the ambush started,” Cross continued. “Navigation was corrupted. Air support was recalled. You’re either the unluckiest colonel in Afghanistan or someone wanted us erased.”
Vale walked toward the door.
“You should consider your situation.”
“I am.”
Vale stopped.
“You have a family.”
Cross’s humor disappeared.
“My wife died four years ago.”
“You have a daughter.”
Cross’s body went still.
Vale turned.
“Amelia. Sixteen. Boarding school in Vermont.”
“If anyone touches her—”
“No one is threatening her.”
“You just did.”
Vale opened the door.
“You have six hours to remember where you put the drive.”
He left.
Cross pulled against the restraints.
Six hours.
Across the world, Amelia was sleeping.
He had kept his work separate from her life.
Or believed he had.
He forced himself to breathe.
Then he noticed something scratched into the underside of the metal table.
Three letters.
D.M.
Cross stared.
Daniel Mitchell?
The man they had encountered in Darak Nar had never given his name.
He had appeared from an abandoned tunnel shortly before the ambush, wearing civilian clothing and carrying an old rifle.
Cross had nearly detained him.
Then the man had said something impossible.
“They gave you the wrong coordinates.”
Minutes later, the attack started.
During the fighting, the stranger had guided Cross’s men toward the western corridor.
He had also produced the white cloth.
Cross had seen him signal the A-10.
After the aircraft responded, the stranger had whispered one name.
Sarah.
Cross had assumed it was a call sign.
Now he wondered.
He bent down farther.
More scratches appeared.
RAVEN ISN’T A PROGRAM.
Below that:
IT’S A PARTNERSHIP.
Cross’s heart quickened.
He examined the table.
The scratches looked old.
Years old.
Daniel had been inside this room.
A sound came from the hallway.
Cross sat upright.
The door opened again.
Not Vale.
A guard entered with water.
Cross watched him carefully.
“You American?”
The guard said nothing.
Cross looked at the uniform.
No insignia.
Private contractor.
The man placed the cup on the table.
As he turned, Cross noticed a patch beneath his jacket.
A black raven inside a silver circle.
Cross smiled faintly.
“Nice bird.”
The guard froze.
Only for a second.
Enough.
“You don’t know what that means,” the guard said.
Cross leaned forward.
“I’m starting to.”
The guard stepped closer.
“You should stop.”
Cross looked at the patch again.
“Company?”
No response.
“Contractor?”
Nothing.
“Raven?”
The guard grabbed Cross by the collar.
Cross had been waiting.
He drove his restrained hands upward, caught the man’s wrist, and pulled him off balance.
The struggle lasted seconds.
Cross seized the guard’s access card.
By the time another set of footsteps approached, he had released one wrist.
The door opened.
Cross moved.
Two minutes later, he was in the corridor.
The facility was small.
Old.
Possibly Soviet-era.
He found an equipment locker, recovered boots and a jacket, then moved toward an exterior stairway.
Before leaving, he entered a communications room.
One computer remained unlocked.
Cross searched the network.
He found a transport manifest.
A passenger had arrived three hours earlier from Europe.
The name made no sense.
HELEN MITCHELL.
Cross stared.
Sarah Mitchell’s mother.
Then another file opened automatically.
A live camera feed.
An interrogation room.
Helen sat alone at a table.
She looked frightened but unharmed.
Someone entered.
Cross recognized the man immediately.
Not Colonel Vale.
The stranger from Darak Nar.
Daniel Mitchell.
Cross whispered, “What the hell?”
Daniel sat across from his mother.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then Helen reached across the table.
She slapped him.
Cross almost laughed from shock.
Daniel accepted it.
Helen began crying.
Then she pulled her son into her arms.
Cross watched them embrace.
A warning appeared on the monitor.
SECURITY BREACH — LEVEL TWO.
Cross closed the feed.
Now he understood at least one thing.
Helen had not been kidnapped.
She had come to Daniel.
But why?
He searched one final directory.
RAVEN.
The folder required credentials.
Before Cross could try again, an alarm sounded.
He ran.
Outside, cold mountain air struck his face.
He disappeared into darkness.
Behind him, men began shouting.
Cross had no idea where he was.
But he knew who he had to find.
Sarah Mitchell.
Because her dead brother was alive.
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Her missing mother was with him.
And Colonel Vale was hunting them all.
