25. Rook
ROOK
Project Nightfall didn’t exist.
Officially.
Fathom searched military databases.
Intelligence archives.
Defense contracts.
Black-budget programs.
Nothing.
Not a single current reference.
Not one complete historical record.
Someone had removed an entire project.
That required more than high clearance.
It required control over the people who maintained the system.
“Everything leaves a footprint,” Cobra said.
“Yes,” Fathom answered.
“So where is this one?”
“Inside whatever survived on the cargo ship.”
He isolated the damaged Nightfall files from the wider network.
“Searching conventional databases may alert whoever erased it. I’m staying inside the offline copies.”
Rook approved.
The less the conspiracy knew, the better.
Fathom reconstructed fragments while the team continued preparing for Canada.
Shark tested the long-range radios with his uninjured hand.
Reef arranged transportation from the landing zone.
Falcon studied the private airstrip and marked probable guard positions.
Cutter entered with winter flight charts.
“The pilot is ready,” he said. “Storm clears enough for takeoff in four hours.”
“We leave as soon as it does.”
“Canadian contact will have two vehicles waiting at the landing strip.”
Rook looked at him. “Another friend?”
Cutter’s mouth curved.
“I had a life before you boys took over my warehouse.”
The center monitor sounded a warning.
Fathom immediately disconnected it from the shared system.
A file had appeared inside the isolated Nightfall archive.
No sender.
No routing source.
No identifying information.
Only a title.
WADE PARKER INTERVIEW
Recorded six days earlier.
Nobody moved.
Sarah reached the workstation first.
“Open it.”
“Not yet.”
She turned toward Fathom.
“What?”
“The file appeared inside an isolated archive with no network access.”
“Then how did it get there?”
“That’s the problem.”
Fathom checked the external drives.
One of the recovered cargo drives contained a delayed-release partition. The file had remained hidden until the system encountered the Sunset Protocol search term.
“It was already on the drive,” Fathom said. “Someone programmed it to unlock when we found the connection.”
“The Silver Sword,” Sarah whispered.
“Possibly.”
“Can you open it safely?”
“I’m making a copy.”
Rook moved beside Sarah.
She stared at the file title.
Wade’s name.
Six days ago.
Her control remained intact, but Rook saw the strain in the way she held herself.
He wanted to reach for her hand.
He didn’t.
Not with the entire team watching.
Not when she might need the space more than the contact.
Fathom opened the copied file inside an isolated system.
Video filled the monitor.
A concrete room.
Metal table.
Two chairs.
Wade sat in one of them.
Sarah released a sharp breath.
The photograph had shown only his profile.
The video showed everything.
He was older.
A scar ran from his temple toward his jaw. His dark hair touched the back of his neck. Exhaustion carved shadows beneath his eyes.
But he was alive.
Six days ago, Wade Parker had sat in that room breathing.
Sarah placed one hand against the edge of the workstation.
A second person sat across from him, beyond the camera’s view.
A distorted voice entered the recording.
“State your designation.”
Wade stared toward the unseen interviewer.
“Go to hell.”
Sniper smiled.
“I like him.”
Despite everything, the smallest sound escaped Sarah.
Half laugh.
Half sob.
The interviewer tried again.
“State your designation.”
Wade leaned back.
“Still go to hell.”
Rook almost smiled.
Wade was bruised.
Exhausted.
Imprisoned.
Not broken.
The distorted voice changed tactics.
“Sunset Protocol has been reactivated.”
Every trace of humor left Wade’s face.
Sarah moved closer to the screen.
“By whom?” Wade asked.
“That is not your concern.”
“It became my concern five years ago.”
“You will provide the remaining Nightfall access sequence.”
“No.”
“The extraction event is approaching.”
Wade’s expression hardened.
“If they’re coming, you should start running.”
“Who?”
For the first time, Wade smiled.
It wasn’t a pleasant smile.
“The people you failed to bury.”
The recording ended.
The monitor went black.
Nobody spoke.
Rook stared at his reflection on the screen.
Sunset Protocol had been reactivated.
An extraction event was approaching.
And Wade knew someone was coming.
“Was he talking about us?” Falcon asked.
“He couldn’t know about Shadow Division,” Reef said.
“Unless the Silver Sword got a message to him,” Sarah replied.
Fathom examined the video metadata.
“The recording came from Black Site Theta. Security designation matches the private airstrip.”
That narrowed their three possible sites to one.
Rook turned toward the map.
“We have our target.”
Sarah remained in front of the dark monitor.
Rook stepped beside her.
“He’s strong.”
“I know.”
“He expects someone to come.”
Her gray eyes moved toward his.
“Then we shouldn’t keep him waiting.”
Rook looked around the warehouse.
“Final checks. We leave in four hours.”
Shadow Division moved.
Project Nightfall remained a mystery.
Sunset Protocol was active.
Warden intended to move Wade before the extraction.
But now Rook knew where to find him.
And whoever controlled Black Site Theta was about to learn something important.
The people they failed to bury were coming.