Chapter 31
The Knight Tactical hangar loomed ahead in the darkness, a fortress of steel and concrete that had never looked more welcoming. Cory checked his rearview mirror for the dozenth time, confirming Reed's sedan still followed.
They'd made good time from the desert, but Reed had to be running on fumes and stubbornness.
"He's not going to make it much longer," Izzy said, echoing his thoughts.
After Izzy hit the hangar’s remote, Cory pulled into the secure bay, Osgood behind them. The older man emerged from his vehicle like he was ninety instead of sixty, cradling his bandaged arm against his chest.
"I just wanted to go home to Robyn." Reed's voice cracked on his wife's name.
Under the harsh LED lights, Cory got his first good look at the field dressing. Blood had soaked through, dark and accusing. Izzy was already moving, hands gentle but efficient as she examined the bandage.
"This needs attention. Now." She pulled out her phone. "I know someone."
"No hospitals," Cory said quickly. "They report gunshots—"
"Not this guy." Izzy was already dialing. "Former Special Forces medic. Runs an off-books clinic for people like us. No questions, no paper trail."
People like her. Operatives who lived in the shadows, who couldn't always explain their injuries to civilian doctors. Cory filed that away, another glimpse into the world Izzy inhabited.
"Thirty minutes," she said, disconnecting. "He'll come to us."
They settled Reed in the conference room, Cory noting how the man's hands shook as he accepted a bottle of water. Shock setting in properly now, the adrenaline finally exhausted.
The medic arrived in exactly thirty minutes—a grizzled man in his fifties who moved with the economy of someone who'd patched up bodies under fire. He worked in efficient silence, confirming Izzy's field assessment while Reed gritted his teeth.
"Clean through-and-through. You're lucky." The medic packed his supplies. "Antibiotics twice daily. Keep it clean. You know the drill."
After he left, Cory found himself in an unexpected position—convincing a federal investigator to accept protection from someone who operated entirely outside the law.
"You can't go home," Cory said firmly. "Whoever shot at you knows where you live."
"Robyn's alone. She'll panic if I don't come home."
"Call her. Tell her you're working a sensitive case." Izzy's voice was gentle but firm. "One of my associates will pick you up at 0800. Take you somewhere safe. I’ve got another person in mind to watch Robyn. She’ll never know they’re there."
“This investigation’ll be wrapped up soon,” Cory added. “And if you change your mind about telling Robyn, we’ll have her brought to you.”
Reed looked between them, and Cory saw the moment he accepted his new reality. "How did it come to this?"
"That's what we need to figure out." Cory pulled out a chair. "Why would someone try to kill you?"
Reed's Adam's apple bobbed. "Last week, I told Tom Morrison I was retiring. I mentioned maybe reviewing my old cases. Making sure I hadn't missed anything... criminal." Reed's voice dropped to a whisper. "All those mechanical failures. What if I was wrong?"
"A guilty, retired FAA investigator might start talking," Izzy said.
"Or worse—might reopen investigations." Cory's jaw tightened. "You became a liability."
Reed nodded miserably. "Morrison must have reported to whoever's behind this. Now someone's shooting at me."
"Speaking of Morrison..." Reed straightened slightly. "Three weeks ago, I saw something."
Cory leaned forward as Reed continued.
"Evergreen Lodge bar. Tom Morrison and that MedFlight woman—Barnes-Nakamura. They had files spread out. Personnel files."
“MedFlight’s?" Izzy's voice had gone sharp.
He shook his head. "Mountain Angel. I saw the logos." Reed closed his eyes, remembering. "When I walked past, I heard her say 'This one has access to everything.'”
"They have someone inside," Cory breathed.
"I saw Martha's photo on top when they covered the files." Reed opened his eyes. "I think MedFlight’s got a mole at Mountain Angel. Or they’re looking to hire one."
The implications crashed over Cory like a cold wave. Someone Izzy trusted—someone with access to schedules, aircraft, her personal items—was feeding information to the enemy.
Izzy's face had gone pale, but her voice stayed steady. "Reed, you need rest. Let's get you to a room where you can lie down properly."
Cory caught her signal immediately. They needed to discuss this revelation without their guest—traumatized and potentially compromised—in the room.
"She's right," Cory said, noting how the man swayed slightly in his chair. "We can strategize after you've rested." And order the man to tell the FBI what he’d just told them.
They helped him to one of the guest suites, Izzy checking that he had water, pain meds within reach, and her cell number programmed into his phone.
Reed nodded, already sinking onto the bed. "Find them," he said. "Find who's doing this before anyone else gets hurt."
Back in the operations room, Izzy immediately started setting up the video connection. "We need the team," she said, fingers flying across the keyboard. "This changes everything."
The video call connected to chaos. Both Knight Tactical teams crammed into what looked like a luxury lodge's great room, some kind of competition clearly in progress. Axel had Kenji in a headlock while Maya documented with her phone.
"Really?" Izzy's voice cut through the noise. "This is how you spend a snow day?"
The teams immediately focused, though Axel kept his arm around Kenji's neck.
"Where's your shadow?" Axel's eyes found Cory. "The chief?"
"Right here." Cory stepped into view.
"Good job not letting her chase the shooter alone." Axel's grudging approval felt like passing some kind of test. "That's like trying to hold back a tornado."
"Tell me about it," Cory responded dryly, earning what might have been an almost-smile from the massive operator.
They quickly briefed the team on Osgood’s revelation. The playful atmosphere evaporated as the implications sank in.
"A mole explains everything," Ronan said. "The timing, the access, knowing which aircraft to target."
"We need to identify them," Maya added. "But carefully. Can't tip them off."
"Track SBN," Kenji suggested. "If she's running a mole, she has to meet with them."
Zara frowned down at her computer screen. "Her condo's like Fort Knox. The place has more security than some government buildings. But..."
"But?" Izzy prompted.
"Financials show a standing Saturday appointment at a med spa. Super exclusive. Zero cameras. The kind of clients who go there value their privacy."
"Put a tracker on her vehicle," Deke said. "See who she meets with."
Cory's stomach dropped. "That's— a federal crime," he finished. "Illegal surveillance. Up to five years for each of us."
The team exchanged glances across two thousand miles.
"So let her keep meeting with someone who's sabotaging aircraft?" Axel's voice had gone dangerously quiet.
"People could die, Chief," Kenji added. "Already almost have."
“Izzy and I can tail her. That’s completely within the law.”
Izzy made a noise. “And super inefficient.”
Ronan shook his head. “Our girl has one speed: super-sonic. Plus, you risk being made. If the woman flags you….”
Cory gripped the back of his neck, squeezing hard. “Yeah. Copy that.”
"Sometimes the law and what's right aren't the same thing." Deke's quiet wisdom hit like a hammer.
"I'll do it alone," Izzy said suddenly. "Keep you clean. You don't even have to know—"
"Absolutely not." The words came out harsher than Cory intended. "We're partners in this. I'm not letting you take a federal rap alone."
"But—"
"Either we both do it or neither of us does."
Maya leaned forward. "How many more Brads will she recruit? How many more aircraft will they mess with?"
The weight of it pressed down on Cory's chest. Everything he'd sworn to uphold, every principle he'd built his career on, warred with the simple truth—more people would die if they didn't act.
A long silence stretched across the connection. Cory felt something fundamental shifting inside him, some line he'd drawn in permanent ink suddenly seeming arbitrary.
He paced, back and forth, a tight line from the screen to the door and back. But inspiration remained elusive. "The evidence will be inadmissible," he said finally. "Fruit of the poisonous tree."
"We don't need admissible," Zara said. "We need truth. Once we know where to look, we leave it alone. Let the FBI stumble across it independently."
Cory flinched. That was such a narrow line. The kind of rationalization that destroyed careers and consciences.
But then he thought about Reed Osgood, shaking with shock and blood loss. About Izzy's car exploding.
"Tracker only," he heard himself say. "It comes off the moment we ID the mole."
"Copy that," the team responded in unison.
After they disconnected, Cory sat in the sudden quiet, wondering what he'd just agreed to. Izzy moved around the kitchen, starting coffee neither of them needed.
"You didn't have to do that," she said quietly.
"Yes, I did."
She turned to face him. "Why?"
Because watching you work today showed me what real courage looks like. Because your daughter deserves to come home. Because sometimes protecting the innocent matters more than protecting your career.
"Because it's the right thing to do," he said simply.
Something shifted in her expression, and she crossed the space between them. For a moment, he thought—hoped—she might...
A crash from the guest room shattered the moment. Reed, crying out in his sleep.
"I'll check on him," Izzy said, but her hand briefly touched his arm as she passed. "Thank you, Cory. For all of it."
He watched her go, then slumped into a chair. Tomorrow they'd commit a federal crime. Cross a line he'd never imagined crossing.
His phone buzzed. Zara had sent SBN's schedule.
Spa appointment 1000 to 1400hrs. Perfect window.
Cory closed his eyes and found himself praying. Not for forgiveness. That would come later, maybe. But for wisdom. For protection. For the strength to see this through.
Because tomorrow, Chief Cory Fraser would become someone else. Someone who put illegal trackers on vehicles and hoped the ends justified the means.
Lord, help me be the man Izzy and her family need me to be. Even if it costs me everything I thought I was.