Page 74 of Echo: Burn
"What if we encounter heavy resistance?" Stryker asks.
"We disengage and regroup. The evidence is important, but not worth dying for if we can live to fight another day."
"What about the DC intercept?" Mercer looks at Rourke. "If Russian diplomats are involved...”
"You handle it like Cross suggested. Private contractors after valuable cargo. No American government involvement. No international incident." I look at Rourke. "Can you do that?"
"I can make it look like whatever you need it to look like." His smile is cold. "Just give me the word."
"The word is given. You move in forty hours. That gives us time to hit Whitefish and relay any intel we find about the shipment contents."
"What about communication protocols?" Tommy asks.
"Encrypted channels only. Check-in every thirty minutes. If we go dark for more than an hour, assume compromise and extract." I look at each of them. "This is it. The moment we've been building toward. Whatever happens next, we stop them or thousands of people die. Those are the stakes."
"No pressure," Stryker mutters.
"All the pressure." I don't smile. "But we've been training for this. We're ready."
"Are we?" Khalid's voice is quiet. "Ready for what happens after? If we succeed, if we expose the Committee—they'll come after us with everything. And if we fail...”
"We won't fail," Willa says firmly. "We can't. Too many people are counting on us."
"She's right." I look at the tactical map one more time. "We get proof. That's the priority. Video, documents, chemicalsamples, witness testimony—everything we can carry out. The world needs to know what the Committee's planning. Even if we can't stop the attack, we make sure they can't hide what they did."
"And if we die getting that proof?" Mercer asks.
"Then we die knowing we did everything we could." I meet each pair of eyes. "But we're not planning to die. We're planning to win."
Silence settles over the briefing room. Heavy but not hopeless. We've all accepted the possibility of death. But we're all committed to living.
"Team assignments," I say. "Whitefish raid: myself, Willa, Odin, Stryker, Rourke, Mercer; Base operations: Tommy, Sarah, Karina, Khalid. Questions?"
No one speaks.
"Good. We roll in thirty minutes. Gear up. Check your equipment. Make your peace with whatever gods you believe in." I pause. "And remember—whatever happens out there, we're fighting for people who don't even know they need protecting. That matters. We matter. This mission matters."
"Hooah," Stryker says quietly.
The others echo it. Even Willa, even though she's not military, joins in the acknowledgment.
I watch them file out, each person heading to their preparations. Willa lingers at the door, catches my eye, mouths three words:I love you.
I mouth them back:I love you too.
Then she's gone, and I'm alone with the maps and the plans and the weight of command that never gets lighter no matter how many operations you run.
Tommy appears at my elbow. "Kane. About the Whitefish facility...”
"What about it?"
"My surveillance shows increased activity in the last hour. They're not just sanitizing evidence. They're fortifying. Bringing in heavy weapons, setting up defensive positions." He pulls up thermal imaging. "They know we're coming."
"Kessler."
"Has to be. He's turning that facility into a kill box." Tommy's voice is grim. "You go in there, you might not come out."
"Then we better make sure we do." I study the images, calculating approaches, identifying weak points. "Send these to my tactical display. I want real-time updates on guard positions."
