Part 3
Nathan did not let his eyes remain on the logo.
“That was fast,” he said.
Rusk’s smile held. “Washington takes an interest when a Coast Guard crew recovers an unidentified armed person from restricted waters.”
“We haven’t reported a weapon.”
The hallway seemed to narrow around them.
Rusk glanced at the closed treatment-room door. “Then I must have misunderstood the briefing.”
“What briefing?”
“I’d be happy to discuss it in private.”
Nathan looked at Dr. Brooks. Her face was composed, but one finger pressed too hard against the edge of her clipboard. She had noticed the problem too.
“My office,” Nathan said.
Rusk stepped aside to let him lead.
Nathan walked three doors down, opened an empty examination room and gestured for Rusk to enter. The man crossed the threshold without hesitation. He did not look for exits, cameras or observers.
He already knew where they were.
Nathan stayed outside and closed the door.
Then he turned to Dr. Brooks. “Move Mara.”
“Where?”
“Cold-weather simulation room in the old training wing. Paper chart only. Ortega goes with her.”
Dr. Brooks did not ask why. “What about the rifle?”
“Cal has it. I’ll handle that.”
Nathan keyed his radio and called Owen Briggs.
“Chief, I need you outside examination room three. Quietly.”
Owen responded with a single click.
Nathan opened Mara’s door. “We’re changing rooms.”
She had already pushed the blanket aside. “Tidepoint?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“So far.”
“That means reconnaissance.”
Dr. Brooks disconnected the portable monitor while Ortega brought a wheelchair. Mara tried to stand, but her knees failed before she reached full height. Nathan caught her under the uninjured arm.
She stiffened at the contact, then forced herself not to pull away.
“I can walk.”
“Not today.”
“I need the module.”
“You need to remain conscious.”
Her jaw tightened, but she allowed Ortega to lower her into the chair. Dr. Brooks wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and placed an oxygen bottle beneath the seat.
Owen appeared at the far end of the hall and stopped beside the closed examination room. He wore no visible weapon and looked like a tired rescue swimmer waiting for paperwork.
Nathan guided Mara in the opposite direction.
The old training wing had once housed cold-water survival simulators and classroom equipment. Most of it had been moved to a newer building years earlier. The remaining rooms were concrete, windowless and disconnected from the base’s current medical network.
Cal met them there carrying the rifle case and his air-gapped laptop.
“Tidepoint,” he said as soon as the door closed. “You were right.”
Mara looked at Nathan rather than Cal. “How much did they receive?”
“An unidentified female survivor, age estimate, temperature, approximate recovery coordinates and the fact that the intake terminal was disconnected manually.”
“Then they know.”
Cal placed the rifle case on a steel table. “How?”
“Disconnecting the terminal created a maintenance exception. Tidepoint watches exceptions more closely than normal traffic.”
Nathan looked at him. “Can they see where we moved her?”
“Not through medical systems. Cameras are another question.”
“The hallway cameras in this wing haven’t worked in years,” Dr. Brooks said.
Cal glanced around the room. “For once, neglected maintenance may be useful.”
He opened the case. The rifle lay inside with the firing assembly removed and tagged separately. Mara’s attention settled on the stock.
Cal positioned the data module beside the laptop. “I need a passphrase, key structure or whatever you used to build the second partition.”
“You’ll have it when a clean transmission route is ready.”
“I can work faster if I understand the architecture.”
“You can also compromise it faster.”
Cal’s eyebrows rose.
Nathan stepped between them before either could continue. “He found the module. You need his help.”
Mara studied Cal. “How long did it take you to identify the separate encryption?”
“Three hours.”
“The seam was designed to delay a professional analyst for six.”
“I had an incentive.”
A faint movement reached the corner of her mouth. “So did I.”
Nathan placed his palms on the table. “We have a Tidepoint contractor inside the medical wing. He knows enough to ask about a weapon we never reported. I need a route to Evelyn Shaw, and I need to know whether anyone else on this base is connected to the people who sent him.”
Cal opened a map of the facility’s systems from a local copy. “There is an emergency satellite transmitter in the old marine-safety building. It predates Tidepoint’s contract and was never integrated into the main network.”
“Operational?”
“On paper.”
“Can you make it operational?”
“If Jenna can get me a replacement power controller from the aviation shop.”
Nathan lifted his radio.
“Wait,” Mara said. “Do not say Shaw’s name over any base channel.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
She watched him make a coded request for Walsh to meet them with equipment. Some of the guardedness left her face, though not enough to call it trust.
Dr. Brooks checked Mara’s pulse and blood pressure. “You need to lie down.”
“I need to stay awake.”
“Those are not mutually exclusive.”
“Sleep is.”
Dr. Brooks pulled a folding cot from the wall. “You are still at risk of heart rhythm changes, kidney injury and a dozen other problems you can’t outthink. Lie down or I will give you something that makes the decision for you.”
Mara looked at Nathan.
He shrugged. “I don’t outrank her in this room.”
“You do,” Dr. Brooks said. “You’re simply smart enough not to test it.”
Mara lowered herself onto the cot.
Nathan’s radio vibrated. An encrypted command message had entered the base system under emergency priority.
He read the first line.
IMMEDIATE TRANSFER OF UNIDENTIFIED FEMALE SURVIVOR TO DEFENSE SPECIAL ACCESS CUSTODY.
The message directed Nathan to surrender Mara, the weapon and all recovered materials to a federal team arriving from Anchorage. The order bypassed normal Coast Guard investigative channels and cited a classified authority he had seen only once before.
At the bottom was the digital signature of retired Vice Admiral Samuel Voss, now serving as senior adviser to the National Security Procurement Council.
Nathan read the name twice.
Voss had commanded Nathan during his first major Arctic rescue operation. When a review board accused Nathan of exceeding his orders to save three trapped fishermen, Voss had defended him in a closed hearing and written the recommendation that carried Nathan to his next command.
He had also called Nathan after his father died, not as an admiral, but as a man who remembered the name of every officer he had mentored.
Mara watched his expression.
“You know the person who signed it.”
“Yes.”
“Do you trust him?”
Nathan did not answer immediately.
Cal leaned over his shoulder. “There’s a timestamp problem.”
The transfer order had been created at 12:08 p.m.
Nathan had not entered Mara into any external reporting system until 12:19.
“They prepared the order eleven minutes before Washington was officially told she existed,” Cal said.
Nathan felt something inside him settle into a hard, usable shape.
A secure video-call request appeared on his tablet.
The name on the screen was Samuel Voss.
Nathan accepted the call but kept the camera covered.
“Nathan,” Voss said. His voice was older than Nathan remembered, though still controlled. “I need you to listen carefully. The woman you recovered is exceptionally dangerous.”
Nathan looked at Mara across the room. She had gone completely still. Voss continued, “Do not let her open the device inside that rifle…”
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