Page 54 of Echo: Burn
The clinical part of my brain catalogs the information. The human part struggles with what it means—that Kane has been living with this for five years. That every person in this base is here because someone betrayed them. That the Committee has been hunting them like animals.
"How many?" I ask. "How many people has the Committee killed trying to silence witnesses?"
"We've confirmed forty-seven in the last two years." Sarah's voice is hoarse from disuse. "But the real number's probably triple that. The Committee's been operating since the Cold War. Cleaning up inconvenient truths. Eliminating anyone who threatens their operations."
Forty-seven confirmed. Over a hundred probable. And I'm number twelve on their current list.
My father knew. He saw what they were doing in Yemen and kept quiet because speaking up would have gotten him killed. Would have gotten me killed. He carried that secret until it literally killed him—stress-induced heart attack at fifty-three.
The weight of it sits heavy on my chest.
"Kane thinks I should run," I say. "Leave Montana. Get as far from this as possible."
Tommy finally looks at me. "He's probably right."
"But you don't think I will."
"No." He returns to his screens. "You're still here. That says something."
What it says is that I'm either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. Maybe both.
The comm system crackles to life. Not the open channel—something encrypted. Kane's voice comes through, distorted by whatever security they're using, but unmistakable.
"Stryker, what's your position?"
"North ridge, three hundred meters from target cluster alpha. I've got eyes on two tangos. They're setting up some kind of monitoring equipment."
"Mercer?"
"South approach. One tango, currently stationary. Looks like he's on comms with someone."
I shouldn't be listening to this. Tommy notices me standing by the console but doesn't tell me to leave. Maybe he understands that being kept in the dark is worse than knowing.
"Copy both positions." Kane's voice is pure tactical assessment. "Stryker, can you take both targets from your position?"
"Affirmative. Clean shots. But Kane, this equipment they're setting up—it's sophisticated. Ground-penetrating radar maybe. They're not just searching. They're scanning."
My stomach drops. Ground-penetrating radar. They're trying to find the cave systems. Trying to locate Echo Base.
"How long until they can map the tunnel network?" Kane asks.
"If they get that gear operational? Six hours. Maybe less."
"Then we don't let them get it operational. Mercer, stand by. Stryker, you're cleared to engage on my mark. I'll take the monitoring station. Three, two, one—mark."
The comms go silent except for the faint sound of suppressed gunfire. Three shots. Maybe four. Then Kane's voice again, steady and controlled.
"Targets down. Stryker, secure that equipment. I want Tommy analyzing it."
"Copy. Kane, you seeing what I'm seeing on thermal? More signatures incoming. At least four, maybe six."
"Yeah, I see them. They're responding to the gunfire. Mercer, collapse back to secondary position. We're about to have company."
The transmission cuts to silence.
I realize I've been holding my breath. Tommy's expression is grim as he tracks the new thermal signatures on his screen.
"They sent backup," he mutters. "Smart. Anticipating counterattack."
