Chapter 18
DYLAN
Kane's office sits at the heart of Echo Base, carved from the old mine supervisor's station.
I've delivered mission reports here dozens of times, but the routine never gets old.
Something about sitting across from the man who pulled me out of the darkness, accounting for every decision made in the field.
"Luxembourg operation went clean," I say, sliding the encrypted drive across his desk. "Financial records linking Committee shell companies to several banks. Chain of custody documented, evidence protocols followed. Delaney should be able to build prosecutable cases from what we recovered."
Kane picks up the drive, turns it over in his hand. The lines around his eyes are deeper than last month. Running Echo Ridge does that.
"Good work." He sets the drive aside. "Cross's Prague intel. You've reviewed it?"
"Reagan briefed me this afternoon. Committee assets reactivating Morrison's old financial hub. Webb personally coordinating."
"Not just reactivating." Kane pulls up a map on his monitor, satellite imagery overlaid with intelligence markers.
Prague glows red with activity nodes. "Cross sent additional data this morning.
The Committee is meeting with Kosygin's people.
Former FSB, organized crime connections, ties to Russian oligarchs.
They're not just rebuilding. They're expanding. "
I study the map, cataloging the distribution of markers. The pattern suggests coordination rather than coincidence. Multiple safe houses, transportation routes, financial institutions, all concentrated in a tight operational radius.
"Morrison's network took years to build," I say. "Webb can't replicate that overnight, even with Russian support."
"He doesn't need to replicate it. He needs to merge with something that already exists.
" Kane leans back in his chair. "Kosygin has infrastructure throughout Eastern Europe.
Distribution networks, communication systems, personnel.
What he lacks is Western contacts, institutional knowledge, the relationships Morrison spent decades cultivating. "
"So they combine forces. Two networks becoming one."
"Stronger than either alone." Kane's expression hardens. "We cut off one head. Two more are growing."
The Committee isn't just one person. We killed Morrison, and Webb took over. If we kill Webb, someone else will step up. The structure persists regardless of who leads it.
"Then we keep cutting," I say.
"Eventually." Kane doesn't sound convinced.
"The question is whether we can cut fast enough.
Kosygin brings resources we haven't faced before.
State-level intelligence capabilities, military-grade equipment, personnel trained by Russian special forces.
Morrison and Webb had military backgrounds and intelligence assets, but Kosygin has an entire government apparatus behind him.
This is a different kind of opposition."
"So we adapt."
"We do." Kane pulls a folder from his desk drawer, slides it toward me. "Prague surveillance operation. Two weeks, maybe three. Identify key players, map the network, document the merger as it happens. Intelligence gathering, not direct action."
I open the folder, scan the operational parameters. Standard surveillance protocols with enhanced security measures. The team composition section is blank.
"You're assigning me to Prague," I say. Statement, not question.
"You and Reagan both. Her journalism background, language skills, contacts in Eastern European intelligence circles. She's the best asset we have for this kind of work." Kane meets my eyes. "I need you wheels up within the week."
"You've talked to her?"
"Not yet. Wanted to brief you first." Kane straightens the folder on his desk. "You're my best two-person surveillance team, and I need to know your head's in it."
"My head's always in it."
"That's not what I'm asking." Kane doesn't look away. "You've built something with her. With Khalid. I need operators who come back, not martyrs looking for a good death."
The weight of his words settles into my shoulders. He's seen too many good soldiers throw themselves into missions they didn't expect to survive. Hell, I was one of them before Reagan. Before I had a reason to come home.
"I'm coming back," I say. "We both are."
"Good. Brief Reagan tonight. I want confirmation by oh-six-hundred."
I stand, but something in Kane's expression stops me. He's looking at the folder, at the mission parameters he wrote, and there's something harder than regret in his eyes. Calculation, maybe. The weight of sending people into danger.
"Dylan." His voice is quieter now. "You've given a lot to this fight. Bled for it. If you ever want out, I'll make it happen. No questions."
"Would you? Walk away?"
Kane doesn't answer. He doesn't have to.
The thought follows me through the corridors of Echo Base. Train the next generation. Khalid asking about weapons training. Reagan researching Prague connections. The pieces of something larger taking shape.
I find Reagan in our quarters, laptop open on the small desk we share. Multiple browser tabs glow on the screen, financial records and corporate registrations and satellite imagery. She's been at this for hours.
"Kane assigned us to Prague," I say, closing the door behind me. "Cross sent more data. Committee's meeting with Kosygin's organization. Full merger, not just cooperation."
Reagan nods without looking up. "I found the money trail.
Webb's been moving funds through a series of shell companies, all registered in the past six months.
The pattern matches Morrison's old methodology, but the destinations are different.
Eastern European banks, Russian investment firms, real estate holdings in Prague and Vienna and Budapest."
"Succession planning."
"More than that." She finally turns from the screen, and I see the same tactical focus in her eyes that I felt in Kane's office.
"Webb's not just preparing for Kosygin. He's making long-range plans.
Building infrastructure that survives individual leadership, that can operate regardless of who sits at the top. "
"Something that outlasts him."
"Exactly. Morrison thought he was irreplaceable, and that made the organization vulnerable when we took him down. Webb learned from that mistake."
An organization without clear leadership is harder to decapitate. A network distributed across multiple nations is harder to disrupt. Webb isn't just rebuilding the Committee. He's evolving it.
"If Webb's planning for the next generation," I say slowly, "then Echo Ridge needs to do the same."
Reagan's expression sharpens. "What are you thinking?"
"Kane wants us wheels up within the week. Two to three weeks on the ground, surveillance and intelligence gathering."
"I figured as much." She gestures at her laptop. "I've been building target packages since Cross sent the first message. My old press credentials are still valid. I have contacts in Prague from my journalism days, assets who might provide intel if I approach them right."
She pulls up a map on her screen, points to a cluster of locations near the Vltava River. "Cross identified three safe houses the Committee is using. This one near the Old Town is their communications hub. Webb's senior people rotate through on a regular schedule."
"You've already mapped their patterns."
"Enough to know where we need eyes." She switches to another file, surveillance photos Cross provided. Faces I don't recognize, but Reagan's been studying them for days. "Elena Gracheva runs day-to-day operations. A Committee loyalist, stayed when others fled. She's the one we need to watch."
I study the photo. Hard eyes, sharp features. The kind of face that doesn't forget threats.
"And Tommy's package?" I ask.
"Ready to deploy when we find the right access point.
" Reagan's smile carries an edge. "Fake intel, planted documents, financial records that make it look like Kosygin's people have been selling out the Committee for months.
Webb's paranoid enough to believe it. Once he does, the alliance tears itself apart. "
"Psychological warfare."
"The best kind. No bullets, no bodies. Just information in the right place at the right time."
I've watched Reagan evolve over the past months. The journalist who stumbled into our world has become something else. Still sharp, still relentless, but now she understands that some stories require more than words.
"You're ready," I say.
"I've been ready." She stands, crosses to where I'm standing. "Khalid?"
"We tell him tonight. He stays here, continues training with Mercer, keeps working with Dr. Voss." I meet her eyes. "He's not going to like it."
"No. But he'll understand."
A knock sounds at the door. Light, hesitant. Khalid.
"Come in," Reagan calls.
He enters slowly, his expression caught between determination and uncertainty. He's been watching us all evening, I realize. Watching Reagan research, watching me return from Kane's office, reading the operational tempo that comes before deployment.
"I know something's happening," Khalid says. "Something about Prague. You're both going, aren't you?"
Reagan and I exchange a glance. We haven't briefed him yet, but Khalid's learned to read the signs.
"Kane assigned us to a surveillance op," I say. "Two to three weeks."
"And I'm supposed to stay here, go to school, talk to Dr. Voss about my feelings while you're out there in hostile territory."
"Khalid," Reagan starts.
"When can I start real training?" The words burst out of him, weeks of frustration compressed into a single question. "When can I help?"
Every instinct says no. He's a teenager. He's survived more trauma than most operators encounter in a career. And he's asking to walk deeper into the world that destroyed his family.