Mercer almost smiled.
Then his expression became professional again.
He handed me one of the sealed folders.
“Movement has been accelerated.”
I looked at the security marking.
BLACK-CROWN AUTHORIZATION.
That got my attention.
Black-Crown assignments were not normal deployments.
They were the operations governments denied even to themselves.
“What changed?” I asked.
“Everything.”
Mercer glanced around the lounge.
“Not here.”
I nodded.
Then I looked at Cole.
He stood rigid, shoulders squared now, suddenly displaying every ounce of military discipline he had ignored thirty seconds earlier.
“Petty Officer Cole.”
“Yes, Chief.”
“Report time?”
“Zero nine thirty.”
I checked the clock.
09:23.
“You have seven minutes.”
“Yes, Chief.”
He hesitated.
His eyes flicked briefly toward the counter.
Toward the spilled coffee.
Then toward me.
“Chief, regarding what happened—”
“Seven minutes.”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes, Chief.”
He turned and moved toward the door.
Mercer stopped him.
“Cole.”
He froze.
“Sir?”
“You were supposed to report to Chief Vance as part of the Nightglass task unit.”
The silence somehow became heavier.
Cole slowly looked back at me.
Try Translation Software
Mercer continued.
“She is your commanding field authority.”
Cole stared.
I could almost hear his thoughts collapsing in sequence.
Civilian.
Dependa.
Wrong lounge.
Get out.
