Page 1 of Code Name: Tank
1
TANK
The sharp buzz of a notification cut through the predawn quiet of my camp when it hit my phone at zero five thirty hours. Muscle memory had me rolling out of bed without hesitation. Coffee could wait. Whatever had moved our morning briefing up to zero six hundred meant K19 Sentinel Cyber was about to earn our retainer fees.
Twenty minutes later, I was walking through the doors of Kane Mountain Great Camp’s multi-level boathouse, which had been converted into a high-tech, ultra-secure command center. The scent of the brewed coffee I’d been anticipating had my mouth watering.
Civil twilight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting shadows across the room. Under different circumstances, it would have been peaceful. The kind of morning that reminded me why I’d agreed to live and work in a remote setting in the Adirondack Mountains rather than return to the frenetic pace of a place like DC or LA. The tension radiating across the open space, however, suggested there’d be nothing peaceful about the day ahead.
“Morning, Tank.” Admiral’s tone carried the control that had made him legendary during his FBI days. “Have a seat.”
I took my usual chair, glancing around at who else had made it in this early. Alice, Admiral’s wife and the co-leader of the newest division of K19 Security Solutions, was at the area we referred to as her digital hub, multiple monitors arranged around her, showing data streams I couldn’t interpret from this distance. She looked pale this morning, and I noticed Admiral’s protective glance in her direction—something that had become more frequent since they shared their pregnancy news with the team.
Mason “Atticus” Finch, who, like me, had joined the unit at its inception, was positioned across from me, alert and engaged—the way he’d been during our Air Force days when a briefing was about to get interesting. He caught my eye and grinned, then made an exaggerated point of looking between me and Dragon—two seats down from him—with raised eyebrows. I shot him a warning look that made his grin wider.
Piper Drago looked like she’d been here for hours, which, knowing her dedication to the job, she probably had. Her honey-blonde hair was pulled into a neat ponytail, and she wore dark jeans and a fitted navy sweater that managed to look both appropriate and distracting. She didn’t glance in my direction when I sat down, but I felt the shift in her posture that told me she was conscious of my presence.
It had been like this for a year now. On that first day when Admiral had called another all-hands meeting to introduce our newest team member, I still remembered watching the command center door open, expecting another tech specialist like Atticus. Instead, Dragon had walked in with the kind of situational awareness that marked her as former agency, assessing the space in the thirty seconds it took her to survey the room.
What drew my attention was everything else about her. Her clothes hugged curves that her composed demeanor couldn’t hide, and she carried herself with a confidence that commanded attention from everyone in the room, including me.
When Admiral introduced her, she’d stepped forward with a nod that was both direct and guarded, her hazel eyes meeting each person’s gaze. “I handle signal intelligence and encryption,” she’d said, her tone carrying enough authority to establish credibility without seeming arrogant. “I’m looking forward to working with all of you.”
Simple. Direct. No unnecessary personal details or attempts at charm.
Throughout that first session, I’d watched her work—how she absorbed information and how her cheeks flushed when she realized I was observing her. When she leaned forward to examine Alice’s screen, I’d seen the elegant line of her neck.
Within an hour, she’d identified three security vulnerabilities in certain protocols that Alice had missed. Impressive as hell, and that made her even more attractive.
It was a professional evaluation of a colleague’s expertise, I’d told myself.
That lie had lasted all of one week.
Since then, Dragon had made her limits clear. She requested assignments that kept her working independently, and if she walked into the kitchen for coffee and spotted me there, she’d almost immediately remember an urgent business elsewhere. Her avoidance strategies were as systematic as they were obvious. Given my reaction to her had been anything but work focused, it was probably for the best.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Admiral began, motioning for Alice to activate the main display screen, “we have a situation.”
Alice started to stand, then swayed. Her husband was beside her in an instant, one hand steadying her arm.
“I’m fine,” she murmured, but let him help her settle into her chair. “Just give me a minute.”
“Take your time,” Dragon said, moving to Alice’s work area. “I can handle the display.”
Atticus leaned over to me. “Twenty bucks says Admiral makes her go up to the main house before lunch,” he whispered.
“You’re on,” I replied in a low tone of voice, knowing Alice’s stubbornness would win out.
The Department of Justice seal appeared in front of us, followed by a confidentiality header that made me sit up straighter. The DOJ didn’t call us in for routine cybersecurity consulting. They engaged us when government agencies and federal law enforcement needed expertise they couldn’t provide internally.
“The DOJ contacted us last night, requesting an investigation consultation,” Admiral said. “This morning, we received word that Secretary James Hartwell is flying in personally to review our role.”
Alice activated a secondary screen, displaying a map of the United States with red markers at two locations. “Titan Defense in El Segundo and Apex Aerospace in Fort Worth—both were hit within three days of each other. Last Tuesday, Titan’s CFO discovered contract funds had been diverted from their accounts, forcing them to delay missile guidance deliveries and reduce production schedules. Friday, Apex suffered the same theft, causing similar operational cutbacks.”
A door opened at the rear of the command center. “Apologies for the delay,” said the man who entered, approaching the table with confident strides. “I was called into a last-minute meeting.”
Admiral nodded. “Everyone, this is Secretary of the Treasury James Hartwell. Sir, thank you for joining us.”
The man had the kind of steady presence typical of a cabinet member—someone accustomed to handling crises withcalm authority. He stood near Admiral, his eyes scanning the room before settling on Dragon with recognition. “Thank you for accommodating me. The sophistication of what we’re seeing requires unprecedented collaboration between the DOJ and Treasury.”
