Page 100 of Echo: Burn
He turns back to the ridgeline where the helicopter disappeared, and I can see him memorizing the moment. Filingit away with all the other times he's been too late, too slow, unable to protect the people he cares about.
"Kessler thinks he's won," Kane says quietly. "Thinks he's proven something by taking Mercer and making me watch. But all he's done is sign his own death warrant. And Mercer's going to walk out of whatever hole they've put him in. I promise you that."
We make our way back through the tunnels in silence. Each of us processing what just happened in our own way. The facility is completely abandoned now—they evacuated everything and everyone before we arrived. Kessler timed it perfectly. Got Mercer loaded and airborne just as we reached visual range.
Maximum psychological impact. Minimum tactical risk.
It's the kind of operation a professional would plan. The kind designed not just to succeed, but to send a message.
Message received, I think. And Kane heard it loud and clear.
Back at Echo Base, the aftermath settles over us like a weight. We were so close. Saw Mercer with our own eyes. And Kessler made sure we watched him take our teammate away.
Tommy pulls what intel he can from the brief sighting—helicopter markings, flight direction, probable destinations. But it's thin. The Committee has resources we can barely comprehend, facilities we've never mapped, connections that reach into every level of federal authority.
And Kessler is using all of them.
"The helicopter went east," Tommy reports, fingers flying across keyboards, trying to track a ghost. "Probable destinations include four Committee facilities within fuel range. But Kane, they could have transferred him mid-flight to another aircraft, taken him to a private airfield, moved him out of the region entirely. Without real-time satellite tracking, we're basically guessing."
"Then we make educated guesses," Kane says. "Cross-reference with Committee communication patterns. Look for any facility that's recently increased security or requested enhanced interrogation resources. Find me something, Tommy. Anything."
"I'm trying. But they've gone completely dark since the extraction. No communications mentioning Mercer, no movement through any of their known facilities. It's like he vanished."
"How long?" I ask quietly.
We all know what he's asking. How long until Mercer breaks? How long until enhanced interrogation extracts everything he knows about Echo Ridge?
"Mercer's tough," Stryker says, but even he doesn't sound convinced. "SERE trained. Years of field experience. He knows how to resist."
"Everyone breaks eventually," Rourke adds grimly. "It's just a question of how long it takes and how much damage they sustain before it happens."
"Then we find him before he breaks," Kane says with absolute certainty. "Tommy, I want twenty-four hour monitoring of every Committee communication channel we can access. Any mention of enhanced interrogation, any request for chemical persuasion resources, any increase in security at a remote facility—you flag it immediately."
"Already on it," Tommy confirms.
"The rest of you, get some rest. We've been operational for thirty-six hours straight. We're no good to Mercer exhausted and running on fumes." Kane looks around at each of us. "Six hours of mandatory rest. Then we reconvene and plan our next move."
Echo Base
1 Hour After Countdown
The main screen shows CNN's live coverage, volume muted but images unmistakable. The new president taking the oath of office on the Capitol steps, one hand raised, the other on a Bible held by the Chief Justice. Behind them, an unprecedented security presence—Secret Service agents in tactical gear, military personnel at every entrance, chemical detection equipment visible even in the ceremonial footage.
No attack. No chaos. No mass casualties.
Just democracy proceeding exactly as it should.
"It worked," Tommy says quietly, pulling up additional feeds. NBC, Fox, BBC—all showing the same peaceful transition of power. "Security protocols we triggered with the leaked documents. They screened every person, every package, every vehicle within a mile of the Capitol. The Committee couldn't have gotten a water bottle through that perimeter, let alone chemical weapons."
"Confirmed?" Kane asks, his voice flat.
"Confirmed. Multiple sources reporting 'unprecedented security response to credible threats.' The Committee's operation was dead before it started." Tommy switches to social media feeds showing crowds celebrating in the streets. "We saved them, Kane. All of them. Tens of thousands of people who have no idea how close they came to dying today."
The operations center is silent. Sarah leans against the console, exhausted but allowing herself a small smile. Khalid sitswith Odin, one hand buried in the dog's fur. Stryker and Rourke exchange a look that might be satisfaction.
But Kane just stares at the screen, his expression unreadable.
"We stopped the attack," I say, needing to voice it. Needing someone to acknowledge what we accomplished. "The inauguration happened safely. The Committee failed. We won."
