Chapter 7 - The Black Box
I stared down at the live video feed glowing on my phone screen, my breath catching in my throat.
The timestamp was real.
The location coordinates weren't far from our current zip code—they pointed directly to an abandoned naval storage depot downtown.
“Evelyn?” Nathan asked, noticing the sudden rigid tension in my posture.
“What is it?”
I didn't answer immediately.
I tapped the screen, zooming in on the black box sitting alone in the center of the empty warehouse room.
Resting on top of the box was a small, familiar gold service pin—the exact same pin my father had mocked just hours ago when he introduced me as a simple office worker.
“Agent Vance,” I called out sharply, turning toward the living room.
“Hold on the departure.”
Agent Vance paused at the front door, turning back with a questioning look.
“Admiral? What is it?”
“Take a look at this transmission,” I said, walking over and handing him my phone.
Vance squinted down at the screen, his professional composure instantly hardening into stark alertness.
“Where did this come from?” Vance asked, his voice dropping an octave.
“An unlisted encrypted relay,” I replied.
“It’s broadcasting live from the old Drydock Four warehouse down by the harbor.”
Dad slowly lifted his head from the dining table, his eyes bloodshot and wide with residual terror.
“Harbor?” Dad stammered, his voice weak.
“Why... why is someone sending you things from the harbor?”
“Because, Dad,” I said, turning to look him straight in the eye, “the threat was never just Julian.”
“Julian was a distraction.”
“A disposable asset designed to keep our primary defense servers occupied while the real payload was moved.”
Caroline finally found her voice, though it sounded broken and desperate.
“What payload?” she sobbed from the stairs.
“What are you talking about?”
“The logistics manifests Julian was downloading weren't just about submarine transit,” I explained coldly.
“They were shipping orders for experimental deep-sea recovery technology.”
“Technology that belongs to a black-ops division that was supposedly decommissioned ten years ago.”
Nathan stepped forward, his military training taking over instantly.
“If that black-ops division is active, and they have access to those recovery pods...” Nathan trailed off, his jaw tightening.
“Then someone is planning a major extraction operation off the coast,” I finished his sentence.
“And they used my family home as a staging ground to frame us and clear the board.”
Agent Vance tapped his radio, barking orders into the device.
“All units, abandon current transport protocol,” Vance commanded.
“Reroute to Drydock Four at the harbor immediately.”
“Establish a full tactical perimeter. Do not engage until Admiral Hart and Commander Reed arrive.”
I looked at Nathan, who gave me a sharp, affirming nod.
May you like
“Let’s go,” Nathan said, checking the magazine of his sidearm.
“We’re ending this tonight.”
