Chapter 3 - THE REPORT MARCUS BURIED
Marcus entered before anyone invited him.
“What did you get?”
My father turned.
“Nothing.”
Marcus looked at me.
“You're lying.”
I held the photograph against my chest.
“You should know.”
His face changed.
“What does that mean?”
Admiral Brooks stepped between us.
“Captain Vance, leave the room.”
Marcus looked at my father.
“Dad?”
“Go.”
Marcus didn't move.
Brooks's voice hardened.
“That wasn't a request.”
Marcus finally left.
The door shut.
My father looked at me.
“What report?”
I held up the photograph.
“The original Silent Echo report.”
His face changed again.
“You have it?”
“No.”
“Then who does?”
“I don't know.”
Brooks crossed his arms.
“But someone knows Marcus had access.”
My father stared at the floor.
“Marcus was the administrative liaison on that operation.”
I looked at him.
“He was?”
“Yes.”
“That isn't what he told me.”
My father sighed.
“Marcus handled the official reporting chain.”
I understood immediately.
He had been asleep during the extraction.
But afterward, he had been close to the paperwork.
Close enough to alter the story.
Close enough to erase me.
“Why would he hide it?”
Brooks looked at my father.
“That is what we need to determine.”
I walked toward the window.
Rain streaked the glass.
“I want to see the report.”
“You can't,” my father said.
I turned.
“I have the authority.”
He hesitated.
“Not here.”
“Then where?”
Brooks answered.
“Secure conference room.”
We moved downstairs.
Marcus was waiting in the corridor.
He stepped toward me.
“Whatever you're doing, stop.”
“Why?”
“You don't understand what you're reopening.”
“I understand enough.”
He lowered his voice.
“Dad's retirement is today.”
“I know.”
“You're destroying it.”
I looked at him.
“No, Marcus.”
“You are.”
“You already did.”
His face hardened.
“You think those stars make you better than me?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“They make me responsible for what I know.”
He looked away.
That answer seemed to unsettle him more than anger would have.
Inside the secure room, Brooks brought up the Silent Echo archive.
The operation had lasted seventeen hours.
The official version said the team had been extracted after a communications failure.
The unofficial record was different.
I remembered every minute.
Satellite coverage had failed.
The team was surrounded.
The command center hesitated.
I had overridden the delay.
I had redirected resources.
I had personally coordinated the extraction.
The report showed one line highlighted.
AUTHORIZATION: E. VANCE
Then another.
RESULT: ALL SURVIVING PERSONNEL RECOVERED.
My father stared at the screen.
“You did this?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“That's classified.”
He looked at me.
“You were thirty-three.”
“Yes.”
“You were a commander.”
“Yes.”
“I never knew.”
“You weren't cleared.”
He swallowed.
For the first time, I saw something resembling pride.
Then Brooks opened another file.
The original report had been altered.
The authorization line had been replaced.
AUTHORIZATION: M. VANCE
Marcus's name.
I stared.
My father did too.
“What the hell?” he whispered.
Brooks looked at him.
“Someone transferred Elena's authority to Marcus.”
My father's face hardened.
“Marcus couldn't have done that.”
Brooks didn't answer.
I did.
“Maybe not alone.”
We found another discrepancy.
A missing appendix.
It contained the satellite coordination record.
Without it, there was no proof I had made the decisions.
Brooks looked at me.
“Where is the original?”
“I don't know.”
My father suddenly stood.
“I'll speak to Marcus.”
“No.”
He turned.
“What?”
“You don't confront him.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever altered that report wants us looking at Marcus.”
Brooks nodded.
“She may be right.”
My father looked at me.
“Then what do you suggest?”
“Find out who benefited.”
Brooks opened the financial section.
There was a strange payment.
A consulting contract.
Paid to a private defense company.
The company was owned by a retired commander.
The name was familiar.
“General Aaron Pike.”
My father went still.
“He was my deputy.”
“And Marcus's mentor,” I said.
Brooks nodded.
The room became quiet.
Then my phone vibrated.
A text.
No number.
YOU'RE LOOKING IN THE WRONG PLACE.
A second message followed.
ASK YOUR FATHER WHY SILENT ECHO WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE SAVED.
My father read it over my shoulder.
His expression changed.
“What does that mean?”
I looked at him.
“You tell me.”
He sat down.
“I received orders to abort the extraction.”
I stared.
“You never told me.”
“I thought the order came from higher command.”
“Did you obey?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I heard your voice.”
My chest tightened.
“My voice?”
“On the command channel.”
I shook my head.
“I never spoke to you.”
“You said the team was still alive.”
“I said that to the operations center.”
My father looked at me.
“I heard you.”
Brooks leaned forward.
“Thomas, who gave you the order?”
My father didn't answer.
Then he whispered a name.
“Admiral Richard Hale.”
Brooks went still.
Hale was dead.
He had died three years earlier.
My father continued.
“But the order was authenticated after his death.”
Nobody spoke.
Then the conference room lights flickered.
The secure monitor went black.
A single file appeared.
SILENT ECHO — FINAL AUDIO
My father's voice came through the speakers.
“Abort the extraction.”
I froze.
That wasn't my father.
But it sounded exactly like him.
Then another voice followed.
Mine.
“Do not abort.”
Brooks stared at the screen.
The recording ended.
My father stood.
“That isn't possible.”
I looked at him.
“Then someone has been using our voices.”
Brooks's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“Where?”
He listened.
Then looked at me.
“Marcus just left the base.”
“With what?”
May you like
Brooks's voice dropped.
“The original Silent Echo report.”
