Make you leave.
Every arrogant sentence he had thrown at me was now returning with interest.
His cheeks flushed.
“Understood, sir.”
“Six minutes,” I said.
Cole disappeared through the doors.
The moment they closed, the airman finally exhaled.
Mercer glanced toward him.
“Something interesting?”
“No, sir.”
The airman suddenly became extremely interested in his granola bar.
I collected my bag.
“Private room?”
“Already secured.”
Mercer led me through the lounge toward a narrow conference room near the rear corridor.
The two officers followed.
Inside, the walls were soundproofed, the windows electronically frosted, and a communications unit sat in the center of the table.
Mercer locked the door.
The joking part of the morning was over.
I opened the folder.
Seven names.
Mine sat at the top.
CHIEF WARRANT OFFICER ELENA VANCE — FIELD COMMAND.
Underneath:
PETTY OFFICER FIRST CLASS JASON COLE — NAVAL SPECIAL WARFARE.
CAPTAIN MARCUS REED — SIGNALS INTELLIGENCE.
SERGEANT FIRST CLASS TARA NGUYEN — COMBAT MEDIC.
STAFF SERGEANT OWEN PIKE — RECONNAISSANCE.
LIEUTENANT DAVID KELLER — AVIATION SUPPORT.
SPECIAL AGENT NOAH BRIGGS — COUNTERINTELLIGENCE.
I knew three.
Cole was not one of them.
Mercer placed a tablet on the table.
“Nightglass was originally scheduled for departure tomorrow night.”
“So why are we moving today?”
