PART 7
One contractor said, “Crowe said she’s gone.”
The other laughed.
“Nobody survives that.”
I smiled in the dark.
People kept saying that around me.
It was becoming rude.
I waited until the first man stepped away.
Then I dropped behind the second, locked one arm across his throat, and lowered him gently into the dirt.
The first turned.
I pointed his friend’s rifle at him.
“Morning,” I whispered.
His eyes widened.
Inside the cave, I found satellite uplinks, weapons manifests, cash bundles, and a wall covered in route maps.
My maps.
My informant chains.
My father’s old notes.
Then I saw a black binder stamped with a symbol I had seen only once before.
A silver phoenix wrapped around a sword.
The Council.
Not a myth.
Not a conspiracy.
A network.
Contractors.
Officers.
Politicians.
Money men.
American accents selling American blood for private profit.
At the center of the table was a folder labeled:
REEVES LINEAGE RISK.
Inside were two photographs.
My father.
And me.
Under my father’s photo:
Neutralized, 1999.
May you like
Under mine:
Field disposal authorized.
