Chapter 4 - The Ghost Operative
My supposedly timid defense attorney stood in the ruined doorway of the crashed transport van holding a tactical rifle.
He did not look like the mild-mannered lawyer who had been sweating nervously in the courtroom just an hour ago.
He ordered his heavily armed men to drag my unconscious brother out of the wreckage and secure him.
I kept the stolen pistol aimed directly at my lawyer's chest, demanding to know exactly who he really worked for.
He calmly lowered his rifle and revealed that his real name was Agent Vance from the Defense Intelligence Agency.
He explained that my father had secretly contacted the agency before his death because he suspected a massive mole within his own company.
Vance had deliberately posed as my struggling defense attorney to closely monitor my highly corrupt family.
He admitted that letting me lose the trial was the only way to make my mother and Caleb lower their guard.
I aggressively lowered my weapon, furious that he had gambled with my life and my permanent freedom.
Vance handed me a small key to finally unlock the heavy steel handcuffs biting into my wrists.
He rapidly explained that my mother was currently finalizing the illegal sale of advanced weapon schematics to a rogue state.
If the digital transaction completed at midnight, millions of innocent lives would be at severe risk.
He handed me a tactical earpiece and a heavily encrypted satellite phone.
He told me the agency needed my specific combat skills to quietly infiltrate the company headquarters and stop the transfer.
I asked him what they planned to do about Major Hayes and his kidnapped daughter.
Vance looked at the ground, his voice losing all its previous confident authority.
He softly confessed that they had already located the specific warehouse where the young girl was being held captive.
He said the tactical rescue team had breached the building ten minutes ago, but they were entirely too late.
The warehouse was completely empty, and the kidnappers had left a very specific message painted in blood on the wall.
Vance handed me a glossy photograph of the horrific crime scene.
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The bloody message consisted of a single, chilling sentence directed entirely at me.
It read, "Mara, if you want her to live, bring the original prototype to the warehouse."
