Page 173 of Silent Target

“That doesn’t make either of you less injured.”

Victor’s rifle fires again.

Caleb squeezes my hand once.

Then releases it.

“Stay with Fathom.”

“I’ll stay where I’m useful.”

His eyes narrow.

“That isn’t the same answer.”

“It’s the one you’re getting.”

He almost smiles.

Then runs toward the barricade.

The vault door reaches its final position with a thunderous impact.

Our flashlights illuminate rows of climate-controlled cabinets disappearing into darkness.

Leather-bound ledgers.

Metal cases.

Vacuum-sealed drives.

Photographs.

Microfilm.

Boxes marked only with dates.

Fathom enters behind me.

“This isn’t one operation.”

Mac steps across the threshold.

His legs nearly fail him.

“It’s all of them.”

I open the nearest cabinet.

Binders fill every shelf.

FIRST CIRCLE.

SECOND CIRCLE.

THIRD CIRCLE.

The labels continue.