He turned, shoulders shuddering, eyes burning. He whispered it again: “Falcon.”
CHASE SECURITY HQ DC – 1355 HOURS
Ian Chase was reviewing foreign intel when Martin Bailey knocked twice and entered without waiting. “Ian, we got a sitrep from the Niger desk.”
Ian looked up sharply. “Ford or Dante?”
Martin shook his head. “Shannon.”
Ian froze. “Show me.”
Martin handed over the encrypted report.“She saw a tripwire during a low-altitude maneuver. No pilot should have been able to spot it.”
Ian exhaled slowly. “She’s her mother’s daughter.”
Martin nodded. “There’s more.”
Ian looked up. “The interference before the IED? It matches what hit Shannon’s bird before her crash.”
Ian’s blood chilled. “Same signature?”
“Almost identical.”
Ian stood. “Tell Bravo. Tell Sean. Tell Ford and Dante’s safehouse handler.”
Martin hesitated. “Ian… they’re busy.”
Ian’s voice turned to iron. “They’re busy chasing one nuke. I need them to understand someone just tried to kill Shannon again.”
He stared at the report once more. “Whatever’s happening in Niger, we’re out of time.”
AIRBASE 201 – 19:02 LOCAL
Two days later, the Black Hawk carved tight orbits over the desert, rotors beating a steady war rhythm through the late-morning heat. Shannon kept her eyes locked on the convoy below. Three trucks churning dust, canvas covers rippling in the wind.
Her console flickered again. Radiation spike. Then another. Never back to baseline.
“Falcon Three-One, Eagle Actual,” the radio cracked. “We’re receiving your telemetry. Stay on that convoy. They are not ours. Ground teams are moving, but you’re their eyes.”
“Copy, Actual,” Shannon kept her tone even while her pulse climbed.
Beside her, Touré adjusted the thermal lens and tagged each vehicle. “These readings aren’t accidental. They’re hauling something they shouldn’t be.”
“And they think no one’s close enough to notice.” Shannon tightened their orbit then keyed her mic. “Eagle Actual, be advised convoy is turning southeast. Speed increasing.”
Actual didn’t hesitate. “Falcon Three-One, maintain visual. Do not lose them. Repeat, do not lose visual.”
Shannon pushed the Hawk into a sharper bank, shadowing the turn with perfect precision.
Her grip stayed steady on the controls. “We’re not losing them.”
Not this convoy. Not with what was riding inside those trucks.
LANGLEY – CIA HEADQUARTERS – SECURE CONFERENCE ROOM
The conference room at Langley was cold enough to bite. The CIA seal glowed faintly on the frosted glass wall, the only decoration in the otherwise sterile space.
The deputy director for counterproliferation sat at the head of the table, flanked by two stone-faced division chiefs. Their posture said “defensive” long before they opened their mouths. Daniel Krueger slipped his leash three days earlier. Chase Security was only notified when they called to confirm he was still in custody after receiving the report of the interference on Shannon’s helo.
