Chapter 3 - BLACK HARBOR
The words BLACK HARBOR seemed to change the temperature in the room.
Mercer dismissed the intelligence officer.
“Lock the archive.”
“Already done.”
“Then lock it again.”
The officer nodded and left.
I remained seated.
Reed stood behind me.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Finally I asked, “Why is Black Harbor in a Navy archive?”
Mercer answered carefully.
“Because someone put it there.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“No.”
He sat across from me.
“It isn't.”
I placed Michael's watch on the desk.
“You said this was recovered from Brock's locker.”
“Yes.”
“Then Brock knows about Black Harbor.”
Mercer shook his head.
“Not necessarily.”
“He was in my brother's photograph.”
“We don't know that.”
“I do.”
I pointed at the shadowed figure.
“That's Brock.”
Reed leaned toward the photograph.
He stared.
Then his expression changed.
“You're right.”
Mercer looked at him.
“You're certain?”
Reed nodded.
“I trained with Sullivan before he became a commander.”
He looked at me.
“That’s him.”
Mercer closed his eyes briefly.
“Then we have a larger problem.”
I stood.
“Where is Brock?”
“Under guard.”
“I want to speak to him.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because we don't know who is watching.”
I looked at him.
“Someone already accessed a classified file using my authorization.”
“Yes.”
“Then waiting isn't making me safer.”
Mercer didn't respond.
Reed finally said, “She's right.”
Mercer gave him a hard look.
Reed didn't back down.
“Sir, if someone is using Captain Hayes's credentials, they're either trying to frame her or force us to reopen Black Harbor.”
“Or both,” Mercer said.
I picked up the watch.
“What happened at Black Harbor?”
Mercer looked at me.
“You tell me.”
I stared.
“I was there.”
“You were the operational commander.”
“Then you know.”
“I know the official report.”
“You don't believe it.”
“No.”
Neither did I.
The official report said Black Harbor had been a failed maritime interdiction.
It said seven personnel were lost.
It said the intelligence target had escaped.
It said the operation was compromised by an unidentified leak.
But I knew the truth.
Thirty-seven people had survived because my team had ignored the original extraction order.
Seven had not.
And Michael had been one of them.
Or so I had believed.
I opened my mouth.
Before I could speak, the lights flickered.
Reed immediately moved toward the door.
Mercer reached for his phone.
The lights returned.
Then every monitor in the office turned on simultaneously.
One image appeared.
Michael.
My brother.
Standing alive beside a shipping container.
I stopped breathing.
The timestamp was seven years old.
Michael looked directly into the camera.
He was wearing a black tactical uniform.
His face was bruised.
But he was alive.
A message appeared beneath the photograph.
YOU WERE NEVER TOLD WHAT HAPPENED AFTER EXTRACTION.
Then another line.
ASK WHO SIGNED THE DEATH CERTIFICATE.
The screen went black.
I looked at Mercer.
“Who signed it?”
He didn't answer.
“Admiral.”
“Captain—”
“Who signed my brother's death certificate?”
Mercer stood.
“His commanding officer.”
“Name.”
Silence.
Reed whispered, “Brock.”
I turned.
“What?”
Reed looked sick.
“Brock Sullivan signed the initial casualty certification.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Brock had signed Michael's death paperwork.
Brock had possessed Michael's watch.
Brock had appeared beside him in the photograph.
And someone had just shown me Michael alive.
I walked toward the door.
Mercer stopped me.
“Where are you going?”
“To talk to Sullivan.”
“He's dangerous.”
“So am I.”
Mercer didn't smile.
“I know.”
We found Brock in a secured conference room.
Two armed guards stood outside.
Brock looked different now.
His uniform was still perfect.
His confidence wasn't.
When I entered, he looked at me.
Then at the watch in my hand.
His face changed.
“You found it.”
I stopped.
“You knew it was there.”
He looked away.
“I didn't put it there.”
“Who did?”
He said nothing.
I stepped closer.
“You signed my brother's death certificate.”
Brock's jaw tightened.
“I followed orders.”
“Whose?”
He didn't answer.
“Who ordered you to certify him dead?”
His eyes met mine.
“Your brother wasn't supposed to survive.”
The room went silent.
My hand tightened around the watch.
“Why?”
Brock swallowed.
“Because Black Harbor wasn't a rescue mission.”
“What was it?”
“A containment operation.”
“Containment of what?”
“Information.”
I stared at him.
He continued.
“Michael discovered someone inside the command structure was selling operational intelligence.”
“Who?”
Brock looked toward the cameras.
“Not here.”
I leaned closer.
“You don't get to choose where you answer.”
His voice dropped.
“Your brother found a list.”
“What list?”
“The names of officers receiving payments.”
“From whom?”
“Private contractors.”
I felt sick.
“How many?”
“Eleven.”
“Names.”
Brock looked at me.
“I don't remember all of them.”
“You remember enough.”
He hesitated.
Then he said one name.
“Daniel Mercer.”
Everything stopped.
I looked toward the observation window.
Mercer was standing on the other side.
Watching.
Brock smiled bitterly.
“That’s why I was afraid when I saw you.”
I looked back at him.
“You thought I knew.”
“I thought someone had finally told you.”
The door opened.
Mercer entered.
His face was expressionless.
“Commander Sullivan.”
Brock stood.
“Sir.”
Mercer looked at me.
“Leave the room.”
“No.”
“Captain.”
“You're on the list.”
Mercer's eyes hardened.
“Who told you?”
“Brock.”
Mercer turned toward him.
Brock immediately stepped back.
“You said you wouldn't.”
Mercer's expression changed.
“You idiot.”
I stepped between them.
“What did you promise him?”
Mercer said nothing.
Then the alarm sounded.
A red light began flashing.
Reed's voice came over the intercom.
“Admiral, we've got movement at the east gate.”
Mercer turned.
“How many?”
“Unknown.”
Then Reed's voice became urgent.
“Wait.”
A pause.
“Sir, they're wearing Navy uniforms.”
I looked at Brock.
He whispered four words.
“They came for the watch.”
May you like
The door behind us locked.
And someone outside began firing.
