Page 6 of Silent Target

I’ve been awake for three days.

Not because I can’t sleep.

Because every time I close my eyes, I see six flag-draped caskets—and right now, Shadow Division can’t afford for me to look away.

The cabin is dark except for the glow of Fathom’s computer screens and the dim light hanging above the kitchen table.

Outside, the wind moves through the trees.

Inside, every man in the room is armed.

Rook stands near the window, watching the darkness beyond the glass. Sarah is asleep in the back bedroom, although I doubt she’s truly sleeping. She has the same habit the rest of us do now—resting with one ear open and a weapon close enough to reach.

Cobra leans against the kitchen counter, cleaning a pistol that was already spotless twenty minutes ago.

Fathom sits before three screens, his fingers moving rapidly over the keys.

I sit at the far end of the table.

Quiet.

Still.

Watching.

I learned a long time ago that silence makes most people uncomfortable. Give them enough of it, and they’ll fill it with information.

Rook’s encrypted phone vibrates.

Every man in the cabin goes still.

He glances at the message.

His expression changes.

Only slightly.

But I see it.

I always see it.

“What is it?” Cobra asks.

Rook reads the message twice before answering.

“An agent inside Langley overheard Graves talking.”

Fathom looks up from his screens. “About what?”

“Us.”

The cabin seems to get colder.

I lean forward. “Who’s the agent?”

“Evelyn Hart.”

The name means nothing to me.