Chapter 2 - The Man Near the Ice Sculpture
My body remembered the fire before my mind found the face.
A sharp ache moved beneath my shoulder blade.
Smoke filled my memory.
Metal screamed.
Men shouted through black water and burning fuel.
"Where?" I asked.
Admiral Owen Briggs lowered the phone.
"East side of the ballroom. Near the ice sculpture."
I did not turn immediately.
Training took over.
Breathe.
Count exits.
Find weapons.
Find civilians.
Then locate the threat.
Vivian folded her arms.
"This is ridiculous. You expect us to believe a war criminal simply walked into a charity gala?"
"He did not walk in," Briggs said. "Someone invited him."
Walter's head snapped toward the guest list table.
I followed his stare.
Near the melting sculpture of an eagle stood a man in a black tuxedo with silver at his temples.
Dr. Adrian Vale.
Four years earlier, he had served as a civilian systems engineer aboard the USS Resolute.
Officially, he had died during the explosion.
I had watched the casualty board carry his name.
I had attended the memorial.
But the man across the ballroom was alive.
And smiling at me.
"That cannot be Vale," Walter said.
"It is," I answered.
Vivian looked between us.
"Who is he?"
"The man who locked forty-two sailors below deck," I said.
Vale lifted his glass in a mock toast.
Then the lights went out.
Screams erupted.
Someone knocked a table over.
Glass shattered.
I dropped low and grabbed Vivian by the wrist before she could run blindly into the crowd.
"Stay down."
"Get off me!"
A gunshot cracked through the darkness.
The bullet struck the brass rail behind us.
Briggs shouted for security.
Emergency lights flashed red.
Vale was gone.
In his place, a small black envelope rested on the ice table.
I reached it before anyone else.
Inside was a photograph of the Resolute burning at sea.
On the back, six words had been written in blue ink.
YOU SAVED THE WRONG PEOPLE, COMMANDER.
Below that was a room number.
1417.
Walter read it over my shoulder.
"That is a suite upstairs."
Briggs touched his earpiece.
"Hotel security says the room belongs to Vivian Cross."
Every eye turned toward her.
Vivian's mouth opened.
For the first time all evening, she had nothing cruel to say.
Then her purse began to ring.
Not her phone.
May you like
Something else inside it.
A military-grade detonator.
