13. Caleb
CALEB
Stone fragments cut across my cheek.
I roll away from the rifle and pull Evie behind the fallen pine.
“Stay down.”
“So should you.”
“I need to find him.”
“And he’s trying to find you.”
“He already has.”
The second sniper isn’t shooting to adjust anymore.
He’s shooting to kill.
I study the angle of impact.
The bullet came from lower ground than before.
He moved off the ridge and crossed part of the valley while I was focused on the compound.
Fast.
Disciplined.
Good.
I hate good.
It means Evie remains in danger longer.
Fathom’s voice comes through my radio. “Did you hear me?”
“We heard.”
“The photograph isn’t the only one. The bunker walls are covered with them. Government ceremonies. Military awards. State dinners. Graves appears in every picture.”
“Who’s with him?”
“Generals. Judges. Intelligence directors. Cabinet members. Diplomats. Corporate executives. Some of the photographs go back decades.”
Evie looks at me. “Black Banner isn’t new.”
“No.”
Fathom continues. “I found recruitment files. Compromising photographs. Financial statements. It looks like they identified people with influence, then recruited, bribed, or blackmailed them.”
“Black Banner was the tool,” Evie says.
Fathom exhales. “That’s what I think. The real organization calls itself the First Circle.”
The name settles into place.
Graves didn’t create the conspiracy.
He inherited it.
He may not even control it.
“Copy everything,” I order.
“I’m pulling drives now.”
“Fast.”
“The purge is at sixty-four percent.”
“Then be faster.”
“Always supportive.”
I glance over the tree trunk.
No flash.
No movement.
The other sniper is waiting for me to expose myself.
Evie is studying the compound through the lowest edge of the binoculars.
“Walter is reorganizing his men.”
“How?”
“He stopped sending them toward the bunker.”
“Where are they going?”
“Three teams are moving toward the eastern road. Another is heading into the trees below us.”
He’s tightening the perimeter.
Trying to prevent us from extracting the drives.
Rook’s voice comes over the radio. “Fathom has what we need. We’re moving Mac.”
“South route is blocked.”
“West?”
“Helicopters.”
“North?”
“Search teams.”
A smile pulls at my mouth.
Rook hears it in my silence.
“What?”
“They left the east open.”
“That sounds convenient.”
“It is.”
“Trap?”
“Yes.”
Cobra joins us. “I hate it when he sounds happy about a trap.”
“He’s never happy,” Evie says.
“I’ve been telling her that.”
Her shoulder presses against mine.
The contact is brief.
Necessary.
It affects me anyway.
I force my attention back to the mountain.
The second sniper knows I’ll identify the eastern route as the trap. He’ll expect me to search for another way out.
Which means I need to give him what he expects.
I remove a small reflective lens from my pack and position it beneath the roots several feet to my right.
Then I shift left with my rifle.
Evie watches me. “What are you doing?”
“Making him believe I’m somewhere else.”
“You know where he is?”
“No.”
“That word is becoming less comforting.”
I angle the lens toward the compound.
Light flashes.
The shot comes immediately.
The bullet destroys the lens.
Muzzle flash.
Low ridge.
Six hundred and eighty yards.
I find him through the scope.
His face is concealed behind camouflage.
His rifle is already shifting toward me.
For a fraction of a second, our scopes align.
He sees me.
I see him.
We fire almost simultaneously.
His bullet passes close enough to snap against the air beside my ear.
Mine strikes his shoulder.
He falls behind the rocks.
Not dead.
Disabled.
Evie releases the breath she was holding. “Is it over?”
“With him.”
Her expression tightens. “There are others.”
“Yes.”
Below us, Fathom exits the bunker carrying a padded case. Rook and Cobra close around him. Mac follows, unsteady but armed.
Walter watches them from across the yard.
He doesn’t order his men to fire.
He smiles.
I don’t like it.
“Rook, move now.”
“We’re moving.”
“Graves is letting you.”
“That bothers me too.”
Three black helicopters rise over the northern ridge.
Their side doors are open.
Operators sit along the benches with weapons ready.
Fathom’s tablet begins sounding over the radio.
“What is it?” Rook asks.
“More aircraft. Three convoys approaching from the north, east, and south.”
“How long?”
“Less than thirty minutes.”
“Mercenaries?” Cobra asks.
Fathom doesn’t answer immediately.
“No. Federal tactical teams.”
Evie looks at me.
“They’re sending the government after you.”
“No.”
I watch the helicopters begin boxing Shadow Division against the mountain.
“They’re sending the government after terrorists.”
Graves has already started the second half of his plan.
He never needed to kill us here.
He only needed to keep us on this mountain until the entire country came to do it for him.