Chapter 6 - The Brother Who Wore the Wrong Trident
Ryan found me outside the secure operations building just before sunset.
The sky above Coronado had turned a pale orange.
In the distance, helicopters moved over the water.
The base was quieter now.
Families had been escorted away.
The ceremony had ended without the celebration everyone expected.
And my brother, who had spent years dreaming of earning his Trident, stood before me looking like he wished he could take the entire day back.
"Emily."
I turned.
He was still wearing his dress uniform.
His new insignia caught the fading light.
For a moment, I remembered him at seventeen.
Standing in our parents' driveway.
Telling me he wanted to become a Navy SEAL.
I had hugged him.
Then quietly made certain he understood the difference between admiring special operations and actually living that life.
I had never told him what I did.
But I had tried to help him prepare.
"Hey, Ryan."
He stood awkwardly.
"Can we talk?"
"We are."
He gave a humorless laugh.
"Right."
I waited.
His eyes dropped to my hand.
"Is that scar from Afghanistan?"
I looked down.
"Yes."
He swallowed.
"Mom told me you cut yourself fixing a kitchen cabinet."
"Mom didn't know."
"Apparently, there's a lot Mom didn't know."
A gust of wind moved between us.
Ryan rubbed the back of his neck.
"Commander Hayes told me you were an intelligence officer."
"That's true."
"And you've been serving for sixteen years?"
"Yes."
He looked stunned all over again.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
I studied him.
"Would you have believed me?"
He opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
That answer hurt more than either of us expected.
"I used to think you were just embarrassed," he said.
"About what?"
"Not finishing college."
I almost smiled.
"Ryan, I finished."
His head snapped up.
"What?"
"I completed my degree."
"Where?"
"I can't discuss all the details of the program."
He stared at me.
Then shook his head.
"God."
I could see him rebuilding sixteen years of memories.
Every family dinner.
Every insult.
Every time he had repeated our father's description of my career.
Government contracting.
He ran both hands over his face.
"I'm sorry."
I looked toward the water.
He stepped closer.
"I mean it."
"I know."
"No, I don't think you do."
His voice cracked.
"I let them talk about you like you were nothing."
I turned back.
"You were a kid for a lot of those years."
"I wasn't a kid this morning."
Silence settled between us.
Then he said something unexpected.
"I knew you were coming."
I frowned.
"Of course you did."
"No."
He shook his head.
"I mean somebody told me you were going to be here."
My stomach tightened.
"Who?"
"A man from a defense company."
"What man?"
"He came to speak at one of our training events."
I felt cold.
"Name?"
Ryan hesitated.
"Victor Mercer."
I knew that name.
Everyone involved in Lantern knew that name.
Victor Mercer was the founder and chief executive of Vanguard Strategic Systems.
A decorated former intelligence officer.
A generous donor to military charities.
A frequent guest on national television.
And the man who had spent twelve years claiming his company had never diverted a single piece of restricted equipment.
"What did he say?"
Ryan shifted uneasily.
"He asked about our family."
"When?"
"Three months ago."
"Where?"
"Here."
I forced myself to remain calm.
"What exactly did he want to know?"
Ryan looked ashamed.
"He asked whether you were coming to the ceremony."
"And?"
"I said I didn't know."
"Then?"
"He told me you might try to create a scene."
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Mercer hadn't needed to convince a trained intelligence officer.
He had only needed to exploit a younger brother who had spent years believing his sister was an embarrassment.
"What else?"
Ryan looked down.
"He said there might be people attending who wanted to use my graduation for publicity."
"Did he tell you to keep me away from the front?"
Ryan hesitated.
My heart sank.
"Ryan."
"He said it would be better if you sat with the general audience."
I stared at him.
"Did he offer you anything?"
Ryan's expression changed.
That was answer enough.
"What?"
"A position."
My blood ran cold.
"With Vanguard?"
"After my first operational tour."
He swallowed.
"A security consulting job."
"How much?"
"Two hundred and fifty thousand a year."
I looked away.
There it was again.
Money.
Always money.
My father had sold information.
My mother had sold a child's location.
And my brother had nearly sold his judgment.
Ryan stepped toward me.
"I didn't accept."
"Did you decline?"
He was silent.
I turned.
"Ryan."
"I told him I'd think about it."
I rubbed my forehead.
"Did you give him anything?"
"No."
"Phone records?"
"No."
"Names of classmates?"
"No."
"Training schedules?"
He hesitated.
The silence told me something was wrong.
"What did you give him?"
Ryan looked sick.
"He asked about the ceremony security arrangements."
I felt my body go still.
"What did you tell him?"
"Nothing classified."
"Ryan."
"Just where the family seating would be."
I stared at him.
He continued quickly.
"And where the visiting officials would enter."
My stomach tightened.
"And the names of the officers coordinating the event?"
His face fell.
"Emily."
I took a step back.
"Tell me you didn't."
"He said the company was sponsoring a reception."
I closed my eyes.
The white maintenance van.
The checkpoint.
The black briefcase.
The family seating.
They hadn't obtained those details through a sophisticated cyberattack.
They had simply asked my brother.
Ryan stepped forward.
"I'm sorry."
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I asked the only question that mattered.
"Did Mercer give you a badge?"
Ryan frowned.
"What?"
"An access badge."
He slowly reached into his pocket.
My heart stopped.
He removed a small black card.
On the front was Vanguard's silver lighthouse emblem.
On the back, beneath his name, was an embedded chip.
I held out my hand.
"Give it to me."
He obeyed.
I examined the card.
The serial number was familiar.
Far too familiar.
It matched a series associated with the original Lantern logistics network.
I activated my secure phone.
"Hayes."
He answered immediately.
"Commander."
"I need the checkpoint footage reviewed."
"Which checkpoint?"
"Every one."
I looked at Ryan.
"Search for an access credential assigned to Ryan Carter."
A pause.
"Understood."
"And Hayes?"
"Yes?"
"Find out whether it was used today."
Ryan stared at me.
"What does that mean?"
I didn't answer.
Five minutes later, Hayes called back.
His voice was grim.
"Emily, the credential was scanned at 0642."
"By Ryan?"
"No."
I looked toward my brother.
"Who?"
"We're still identifying the user."
My pulse quickened.
"Where?"
Hayes took a breath.
"Inside the restricted preparation area for the visiting admiral's vehicle."
Ryan's knees nearly gave way.
"I never gave that card to anyone."
I stared at him.
"Did you leave it anywhere?"
He looked confused.
Then his expression changed.
"Last night."
"Where?"
"At dinner."
"With whom?"
He whispered the name.
"Victor Mercer."
The badge hadn't simply been an invitation.
It had been a way to make Ryan look responsible for unauthorized access.
And if the admiral had been killed, my brother's name would have been attached to the security breach.
I looked into Ryan's terrified eyes.
For the first time, he understood the stakes.
"Emily, what have I done?"
Before I could answer, my phone vibrated again.
An urgent message from Hayes.
UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS CONFIRMED.
DEVICE PLACED IN ADMIRAL'S VEHICLE.
REMOTE ACTIVATION CAPABILITY IDENTIFIED.
I grabbed Ryan's arm.
"We need to move."
"Why?"
"Because someone made you the key to an assassination attempt."
May you like
His face turned white.
"And whoever planned it hasn't finished using you."
