Chapter 3 - “Captain Bennett,” General Marcus Voss said through the door.I stared at the handle.
My hand rested over my weapon.
“How did you find me?”
He didn't answer.
“You've been off-grid for thirty-six hours.”
That surprised me.
“How?”
“You were trained by us.”
“And betrayed by you.”
Silence.
Then Voss said, “If I wanted you dead, you'd already be dead.”
“That sounds exactly like something a guilty man would say.”
“Your father said you'd become difficult.”
“He knew me well.”
A pause.
“Charlotte, open the door.”
“No.”
“You're making a mistake.”
“Maybe.”
His tone changed.
“I know what Robert found.”
I said nothing.
“And I know what he left for you.”
That caught my attention.
“You don't know what he left me.”
“I know about Storage Unit 108.”
My grip tightened.
“How?”
“Because I helped him hide it.”
I didn't move.
That wasn't the answer I expected.
“Then why did you tell everyone he was dead?”
“I didn't.”
“Someone did.”
“And that is exactly why you are in danger.”
I looked through the peephole.
Voss stood alone.
No soldiers.
No visible weapon.
That meant nothing.
I opened the door but kept my weapon hidden.
He walked inside.
He looked older than I remembered.
More tired.
“Sit down,” he said.
“I'd rather stand.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
I watched him carefully.
“Where is my father?”
“He's alive.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
I almost laughed.
“You came here without knowing?”
“He stopped communicating with me sixteen months ago.”
“Why?”
“Because I was compromised.”
“By Northstar?”
“By someone above Northstar.”
I stared at him.
He reached inside his coat.
I raised my weapon.
He stopped.
“Easy.”
He slowly removed a photograph.
He placed it on the table.
It showed my father in a hospital bed.
Alive.
Older.
Bruised.
There was a bandage around his head.
“When was this?”
“Six months ago.”
My chest tightened.
“He was alive six months ago.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere called Blackridge.”
I knew the name.
“Blackridge doesn't exist.”
“Exactly.”
He slid another photo toward me.
Aerial footage.
A compound buried inside mountains.
“Your father was investigating something called the Legacy Program.”
I looked at him.
“What is Legacy?”
Voss hesitated.
Then he said, “People.”
I frowned.
“Explain.”
“False identities. Replacement identities. Deep-cover operatives created from birth records, military files, death certificates, and sealed intelligence archives.”
My father's words from the tape came back.
They're stealing identities.
“Why?”
“Control.”
He leaned closer.
“Imagine being able to make a person disappear legally.”
I understood.
“No employment record. No bank account. No passport. No family connection.”
“Exactly.”
“Then you create a new identity.”
“And put someone inside it.”
I stared at the photograph.
“That's what happened to my father.”
“Partly.”
“What do you mean?”
Voss swallowed.
“Robert wasn't investigating Legacy because someone stole his identity.”
“Then why?”
“Because he discovered they intended to erase an entire group of officers.”
I felt cold.
“Which officers?”
Voss looked directly at me.
“People who knew too much.”
I thought about my deployment.
My unit.
Men whose records had vanished.
Two soldiers who were declared killed in action even though I'd spoken to them weeks later.
A commander who disappeared after questioning our orders.
“You were part of that group,” Voss said.
I stared at him.
“My mission…”
“Was never what you were told.”
Every instinct in me screamed.
“What was it?”
“You were sent to a remote facility under the pretense of destroying a terrorist weapons cache.”
I remembered the facility.
The target.
The strange absence of weapons.
The order to eliminate all data.
“There was no weapons cache.”
“No.”
“What was there?”
“A database.”
My heart began pounding.
“Names?”
“Identities.”
He leaned back.
“Hundreds of them.”
“American officers?”
“Officials. Contractors. Judges. Investigators. Journalists.”
“And my father?”
“He found the database years earlier.”
I looked toward the door.
“Then Reagan…”
“She wasn't simply your stepmother.”
My eyes narrowed.
“What was she?”
Voss didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
I reached for the photograph of Reagan and Victor Hale.
“Was she working with him?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Long before she married your father.”
I felt something inside me collapse.
My father hadn't just married the wrong woman.
He had brought an enemy into his home.
“Why would he trust her?”
“He didn't.”
“What?”
“Robert knew she was connected to Northstar.”
I stared at him.
“Then why stay married?”
Voss looked away.
“Because he believed she could lead him to the people behind it.”
I suddenly remembered something.
My father had once told me Reagan wasn't what she seemed.
I had assumed he was joking.
Apparently he hadn't been.
“Where is she now?”
“At your father's house.”
“Waiting for me.”
“Yes.”
I smiled coldly.
“She knows.”
“She knows you're alive.”
“Then why hasn't she killed me?”
Voss's expression darkened.
“Because she needs something only you can access.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Your military identity.”
I understood.
Biometric access.
My fingerprints.
My retinal scans.
My voice.
Everything classified.
“Legacy needs me.”
“Not exactly.”
“What then?”
Voss looked at me.
“Your father built a kill switch.”
“For Legacy?”
“Yes.”
“And I can activate it?”
Voss nodded.
“But there is a problem.”
“What?”
“The kill switch isn't digital.”
I frowned.
“Then what is it?”
“Your father hid it inside you.”
The room went silent.
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
Before he could answer, his phone rang.
He checked the screen.
His expression changed.
“Get down.”
A bullet shattered the motel window.
Voss tackled me.
Another bullet hit the wall.
Then another.
We crawled toward the bathroom.
“Sniper?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Two, maybe three.”
The shooting stopped.
Voss looked at me.
“They know I'm here.”
“No.”
I checked the encrypted phone I had taken from the storage unit.
The screen had turned on by itself.
One message appeared.
HELLO, CHARLOTTE.
Then another.
WE HAVE YOUR FATHER.
And finally:
COME HOME. ALONE.
Attached was a photograph.
My father was sitting in a chair.
Alive.
Behind him stood Reagan.
She was holding a gun to his head.
May you like
And beneath the photograph was one sentence.
BRING THE KEY.
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