Chapter 27
The kitchen had become Doc's command center. She moved between counters, conscripting Deke as sous chef without asking. The massive operator stood at the cutting board, dicing onions with the same focus he probably brought to disarming bombs.
"Knife skills translate," Doc observed, watching him work. "Though I suspect you learned yours differently than most chefs."
"Philippines," Deke confirmed. "Local taught us to prep fish during a surveillance op. Said we looked too obvious sitting around."
"Smart local." Doc piled serving dishes with enough food to feed the entire street. "Your founder used to say the same thing. 'Always be doing something useful.'"
Sarah's head snapped up from her laptop. "You knew Admiral Knight?"
"Our paths crossed during the Cold War's less publicized moments." Doc's expression gave nothing away. "Brilliant tactician. Terrible poker player."
"Seriously?" Deke froze, knife in hand. "I would not have guessed that. About the poker. Not the Cold War."
“All true." Doc pursed her lips, as if she’d swallowed something bitter. "That business with Bill Richardson was inexcusable. John must have been horrified. What Bill became…. Such ugliness.”
Sarah saw Deke's shoulders straighten slightly. She’d read the files. That a colleague of John Knight’s had been directly responsible for Tank Sullivan’s death. It ate at the entire team, but it had to hurt Richardson’s friend, the admiral, even more.
"Sarah, stop hiding behind that screen and help me with the salad," Doc commanded, cutting through the gloom. "And someone tell me why there's still a 'Student Driver' magnet on that motorcycle in the garage."
"That's Finn's," the team called from the other room in unison.
"I heard that." Finn protested, appearing in the doorway. "It's a cautionary warning for other drivers."
"It's an advertisement that you can't ride," Izzy corrected, following him in. "Bear Spray here has better tactical awareness."
Sarah nearly dropped the tomato she was cutting. "Did you just call me Bear Spray?"
"It's a compliment," Axel assured her, stealing a piece of cheese from the counter. "You've been officially nicknamed. Welcome to the team."
Doc swatted his hand away. "Touch my mise en place again and you'll be eating MREs for the next month."
As Sarah chopped vegetables, the team gradually gravitated toward the kitchen. The formal briefing was over; this was something else. Family gathering before battle.
"Alright," Ronan said, pulling up a tablet. "Let's review while we eat. The activation sequence—Sarah, walk us through it again."
Sarah's hands trembled slightly as she set down the knife. "The command center goes live at 1800 hours. Buckley will have a biometric scanner that requires his thumbprint and retinal scan to access the system."
"Once he initiates?" Maya prompted.
"The system takes ninety seconds to complete the activation sequence," Zara explained. "During that window, it's vulnerable to interruption, but after that—"
"After that, people start dying," Griff finished quietly.
"But that's not all," Sarah said, her voice tight. "When the activation happens, there'll be automatic financial transfers. Insurance payouts, contract reassignments, offshore accounts activating. I'll be tracking those in real-time."
"The money trail," Ronan said. "That's our proof."
Sarah's hands trembled. "Exactly. The moment Buckley initiates, millions of dollars will start moving. I need to capture those transactions as they happen—account numbers, routing information, authorization codes. That's what will prove he’s eliminating people. And profiting from it."
"What if the transfers are delayed?" Maya asked.
"They won't be," Sarah said, though her anxiety spiked. "These systems are automated. The money moves the second the activation begins. But I'll only have that ninety-second window to capture everything before they can scrub the records."
The room went silent. The weight crushing her. What if she missed a transaction? What if she couldn't track all the accounts fast enough?
"You'll have the Federal Reserve tracking system up?" Doc asked.
"And the SWIFT network monitors," Sarah confirmed. "Plus the offshore banking portals I've already compromised—I mean, accessed."
"While Zara handles stopping the actual activation," Kenji said, "and Finn monitors their internal systems."
"I'm following the money," Sarah said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "It's what I do."
"So we let him start it," Deke said. "Get him on camera initiating a mass murder conspiracy."
"But stop him before the ninety seconds are up," Axel reminded them.
"Sixty seconds to be safe," Ronan corrected. "Account for lag time."
Sarah's anxiety spiked. Sixty seconds. That's all they had. And she'd be in a van, watching data streams, trying to catch the exact moment—
"Hey." Zara appeared at her elbow. "You've got this. Your algorithm will catch the activation the moment it starts. I've seen your code—it's elegant."
"Elegant code doesn't mean I won't freeze when—"
"Remember when Tank convinced the entire base their barracks were haunted?" Axel said suddenly, clearly trying to lighten the mood.
The room went still for a different reason. It was the first time someone had told a Tank story without prompting.
Kenji picked up the thread. "Three months of 'unexplained' phenomena."
"Ghost helped," Izzy added, grinning. "The speakers in the air vents were his idea."
All eyes turned to Griff, who stood in the doorway looking uncomfortable.
"Tank's idea," he said quietly. "I handled logistics."
"You rigged an entire building to randomly play Gregorian chants at 3 AM," Maya countered. "That's more than logistics."
"The floating sheets were impressive," Ronan added. "Fishing line?"
"Dental floss," Griff admitted. "Harder to see."
"Wait," Sarah said, momentarily distracted from her panic. "You two ran a three-month psychological operation on your own base?"
"Tank thought morale was low," Griff explained, and for a moment, his face almost softened into a smile. "Gave everyone something to talk about besides deployment schedules."
"He would have loved this," Zara said softly. "The conspiracy, the tech angles, the impossible odds."
"He would have loved Bear Spray's takedown of Ghost more," Deke said.
"I was at a tactical disadvantage," Griff protested. "She had elevation and—"
"And you got dropped by camping equipment," Finn finished. "Own it."
The laughter eased something in Sarah's chest. These people who'd faced death countless times were teasing each other about bear spray and haunted barracks. Maybe she could do this.
Doc emerged from the kitchen. "Dinner's ready. And I want clear role assignments while we eat. No ambiguity tomorrow."
They gathered around the table. Ronan stood at the head. "Positions for tomorrow. Maya and I take our assigned exterior posts at 1600 as scheduled. We're Buckley's visible security, right where he expects us."
"Izzy's already in as kitchen staff by then," Deke continued. "Axel with the medical team at 1400."
"Zara infiltrates IT at 0800," Kenji added. "Full system access before anyone else arrives."
"Finn floats between positions," Ronan continued, then looked at Griff. "You're on overwatch. There's a maintenance level above the command center with sight lines through the ventilation system."
Griff nodded. "I'll be in position by 1500."
"Sarah and I will be in the mobile command unit," Doc announced. "Parked two blocks away in my food truck."
Maya raised an eyebrow.
"It’s a magnificent way to hide in plan site," Doc clarified primly. "I dole out Lobster rolls and chilled lemonade and no one questions the arsenal hidden behind the commercial refrigerators. Sarah will monitor all data streams for the activation signal while I coordinate positions."
Sarah's hands shook again. The mobile command unit. Where she'd have to catch the exact moment—
"You'll have backup," Griff said quietly, his eyes on her. "I'll have visual on the command center. The second Buckley enters, you'll know."
"But what if I—"
"Then Zara catches it from inside their system," Kenji assured her. "Multiple redundancies."
"Like Prague," Axel said. "Three different exit strategies and we ended up using all of them."
"Because someone"—Ronan looked pointedly at Izzy—"decided to improvise with explosives."
"It was a distraction."
"It was a building collapse."
"A small building collapse. Minor miscalculation of the explosive load."
The banter continued through dinner—comfort food disguised as tactical necessity. Sarah found herself relaxing incrementally, the team's confidence infectious. They'd done impossible things before. Maybe they could do this too.
As dinner wound down, Deke stood. "We should pray."
Everyone gathered naturally, even Finn abandoning his third helping of Doc's casserole. They formed a loose circle in the living room. Sarah noticed Griff didn't retreat to the edges this time.
"Lord," Deke began, his deep voice filling the space. "We thank you for bringing us together again. For this fellowship. For the chance to finish what Tank started."
"Protect the innocent tomorrow," Maya added quietly. "Give us wisdom to see the truth."
"Steady hands when it counts," Izzy contributed.
"And clear communication channels," Zara said, which earned a few smiles.
"Give us courage," Axel said. "To do what needs to be done."
"Protect this team," Kenji added. "Bring everyone home."
There was a pause, then Sarah found herself speaking. "Help us stop this evil. And... help me not let these people down."
"You won't," Ronan said firmly. "Lord, we trust Your plan. Give us strength for tomorrow. Guide our steps. And help us honor Tank's memory by protecting those who can't protect themselves."
Sarah opened her eyes slightly, glancing at Griff. His head was bowed, not fully but more than before. And when Deke said "Amen," she saw Griff's lips move with the word.
"Amen," echoed around the circle.
The team dispersed to final preparations, but Sarah stepped onto the back porch for air. The night was humid, Charleston's early spring weight pressing close. She heard footsteps behind her—Griff's familiar tread.
"You won't let us down," he said without preamble.
"You don't know that."
"I do." He moved to stand beside her, close enough that she could feel his warmth. "You found what all our bullets and experience couldn't. The money trail. The conspiracy. The ninety-second window."
"That's just data—"
"That's intelligence. And intelligence wins wars." He turned to look at her directly. "Tank would have said you're exactly what we needed."
The mention of Tank from Griff, who rarely spoke of him, made her throat tight. "I'm scared," she admitted.
"Good. Means you understand the stakes." His voice softened. "But you're not alone. We've got you."
She looked up at him, this magnificent protector who'd lost so much, who was slowly finding his way back to faith and fellowship. "Griff—"
"Yo, kids," Finn's voice carried from inside. "Admiral wants us front and center for a final briefing."
They stepped apart quickly, the moment broken but something settled between them. Tomorrow they'd face whatever came. Together.
Before she could go inside, Griff touched her arm. "Wait."
He reached into his shirt and pulled out the chain holding his dog tags. He slipped them off over his head and held them toward her. “Here. For luck.”
In the porch light, she could read the name: SULLIVAN, MARCUS T.
"Griff, no—"
"Tank willed them to me." His voice was rough.
"I can't take those."
"You're going into danger tomorrow because of what he started. Because of what he discovered." Griff moved behind her, gently putting the chain over her head. The metal was warm from his skin. "He would have wanted you protected."
The tags settled against her chest, heavier than she expected. "This feels wrong. I didn't even know him."
"You know what he stood for. What he died trying to stop." Griff's hands lingered on her shoulders for a moment. "That's enough."
She turned to face him, one hand closing around the tags. "I can’t take these."
“It’s a loan. The minute this mission clears, I want them back. Copy?”
“You’re going to be on the front lines. You need the luck.”
"I've got something better." His eyes held hers. "I've got you watching my six tomorrow. Tank would approve."
The weight of his trust, of Tank's tags, of tomorrow's responsibility—it should have crushed her. Instead, it felt like armor.
She let out a long breath. “Okay. A loan. The minute we win, I’m giving these back.”
He grinned. “Deal.”
Later, alone in her room, Sarah looked at her tactical gear laid out for tomorrow. The mobile command unit. Sixty seconds to save lives.
She knelt beside the bed. "Lord, steady my hands tomorrow. Clear my mind. Help me see what needs to be seen." She paused. "And thank You for bringing Griff back to his team. To You. Keep drawing him home."
Through her window, she could see Griff standing watch by the water, but his posture was different. Less isolated. Less alone.
Tomorrow they'd walk into the storm.
Tonight, she'd found her place among these warriors. Not as one of them, but as herself—the analyst they trusted with their lives, the woman of faith who reminded them of Tank's quiet strength.
Tomorrow, she'd have sixty seconds to prove that trust was earned.