The room went quiet.
The backdoor was embedded in code that had been certified as clean.
It was designed to send encrypted packets of data from compromised systems to an external server.
We hadn’t detected it because the packets were disguised as routine telemetry.
It was brilliant.
And it had been operating under my eyes.
Guilt crept up my throat.
I had recused myself from the investigation.
I had followed protocol.
But protocol had allowed a foreign actor to worm their way into our defenses.
Because I hadn’t pushed harder.
The briefing ended with a directive.
Find the backdoor.
Remove it.
Trace the actors.
And do it fast.
I spent the next three days in the SCIF, living on energy drinks and the occasional nap in my chair.
We located the backdoor in the drone fleet’s mission planning software.
It was scheduled to send its first data burst in forty-eight hours.
If it did, the enemy would have access to troop movements, mission plans, and drone flight paths.
I felt the weight of the deadline pressing on my chest.
Then my phone buzzed.
Private number.
I nearly ignored it.
But curiosity won.
“Captain Sterling,” I said.
“Brooke.”
It was my father.
His voice was tight, strained.
“Dad. How did you get this number?”
“There’s something you need to know.”
“What is it?”
“It’s Chase,” he said. “He’s disappeared.”
I stepped out of the SCIF, pressing the phone to my ear.
“What do you mean, disappeared?”
“He was cooperating with federal investigators, like you know. But last night, he called me in a panic. Said someone found him. Someone from the old deal.”
I felt my stomach drop.
“The subcontractor?”
“How do you know about that?”
“Because we just discovered they’re not just fraud artists. They’re foreign operatives.”
Dad’s breathing became ragged.
“He went to meet them,” he said. “To try to fix things. He wanted to prove he could undo the damage.”
“Where did he go?”
“He didn’t tell me. But he said something weird. He said, ‘If anything happens, tell Brooke to look at the grease.’”
My blood ran cold.
The grease.
The stain on my medal case.
“What else did he say?”
“Nothing. The line went dead.”
I stood in the corridor, staring at the wall.
Chase was missing.
And he had left a cryptic message that only I could understand.
But I had a mission.
A backdoor that needed to be neutralized.
I couldn’t drop everything to chase my stepbrother’s mistakes.
Except.
Except the backdoor and Chase were connected.
He had brought the subcontractor into the system.
If they had him, he might be the key to unlocking the backdoor’s full payload.
Or worse, he might be forced to help them.
I made a decision.
I called General Cole.
“Sir, I have a lead on the subcontractor’s current activities.”
“What kind of lead?”
“Personal. My stepbrother has disappeared. I believe he’s been taken by the same group.”
Cole was silent for a long moment.
“What is the operational relevance?”
“If they have him, they have someone who knows the codebase. He could be coerced into giving them the access they need.”
“So you’re saying this is directly related to the national security threat.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cole let out a breath.
“You’ll take a small team. Find him. But you do not compromise the mission.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Brooke.”
He rarely called me by my first name.
“Yes?”
“Be careful.”
Two hours later, I was in a black SUV with two Air Force special agents.
We had a general location from the last ping of Chase’s phone before it went dark.
A marina on the edge of the city.
Abandoned warehouses.
Water access.
Perfect for a discreet meeting.
Or a disposal.
We parked three blocks away and moved on foot.
The rain had started falling, a steady drizzle that soaked through my jacket.
I thought about the grease stain.
Chase’s words echoed in my head.
*Look at the grease.*
It didn’t make sense.
But maybe he was trying to tell me something.
Maybe the grease stain wasn’t just a reminder of that dinner.
Maybe it was a clue.
We reached the warehouse district.
The agents fanned out, covering the perimeter.
I approached the main entrance, a rusted steel door with a flickering industrial light above it.
Voices inside.
Men speaking with clipped, foreign accents.
And one voice I recognized.
Chase.
He was pleading.
“You don’t need to do this. I’ll give you anything you want.”
“Anything is not a certainty.”
“Look, I already gave you the source code. It’s worthless without the decryption keys.”
“Then you will provide them.”
“I don’t have them anymore! The government seized them!”
“You are lying.”
A sound like a scuffle.
Chase cried out.
I pressed my hand against the door.
Inside, three men surrounded Chase.
He was on his knees, hands bound behind his back.
One of the men held a laptop.
They had connected it to a small device that seemed to be tapping into some external network.
The leader spoke.
“The backdoor is scheduled to activate in twenty-four hours. If you do not provide the decryption keys, we will simply wait for it to transmit the data our way. The drone mission planning system will be ours.”
Chase’s face was bloody.
“You’re going to kill me anyway.”
“That is a possibility.”
I signaled the agents.
We moved.
In five seconds, it was over.
Two agents took down the guards.
I disarmed the leader with a quick strike to his wrist, sending the gun skittering across the floor.
He lunged at me.
I sidestepped, caught his arm, and threw him into a stack of wooden crates that toppled with a crash.
“The keys are in the laptop,” I snapped.
One agent grabbed it.
Chase stayed on his knees, looking up at me like I was a ghost.
“You came.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
I pulled him to his feet.
“We need to get out of here. They may have backup.”
