Page 1 of Nothing to Fear

01

Gray Box Headquarters, Northern Virginia

Saturday, June 29, 9:58 p.m. EDT

Code name: Cobalt

The man locked in the interrogation room had to die tonight, or he’d ruin everything.

Most sins whispered in the darkness, but murder was a bullhorn echo in broad daylight. Under different circumstances, eliminating an assassin—a terrorist—would be hailed as just. But the avalanche of lies Cobalt had been telling—wearing two faces for so long neither were real, the depth of betrayal, committing treason—could never be forgiven. Not that there had been a choice.

Dread burned in Cobalt’s chest, but determination overrode it. Killing Aleksander Novak wasn’t about money, ideology, or ego. This boiled down to something far more basic: survival.

Cobalt entered the mark’s personal identification number into the keypad on the server room door. The analyst was so trusting and never hid her PIN when she used it. If the entry log was checked later, and it would be, this breadcrumb would lead down a carefully planted trail.

Inside, Cobalt found the correct button on the control panel and shut off power in the currently unmanned observation room. The camera in Novak’s adjacent holding room was still on, but the surveillance feed was now dead. Nothing would be recorded.

How long would the window of opportunity last? Minutes?

There was zero margin for error. Novak had to be silenced permanently. The Gray Box could never learn the truth about Daedalus. Or me.

Cobalt walked at a brisk but steady pace toward the opposite end of the sprawling subterranean facility. Heart at a cold gallop, Cobalt risked a furtive over-the-shoulder glance.

Fear was a constant stalker, a cruel companion.

Rounding the corner to the main corridor, Cobalt braced for anything. Be empty.

No one loitered in the hall making small talk. Everyone was exhausted from the grueling mission, writing after-action reports, storing gear, eager to go home.

Cobalt slipped into the break room and released a heavy breath, fingers tingling from adrenaline. Don’t stop moving. Not a second to spare.

After pouring a cup of coffee, Cobalt dumped the poison in and stirred. The mushroom-colored granules dissolved and would only leave a mild aftertaste that’d be dismissed as a poor brew. Cobalt grabbed a box of doughnuts, hustled to the interrogation room, and opened the door.

Novak looked up, premature relief gleaming in his bloodshot eyes at the coffee and food he’d requested. Face bruised, chain restraints rattling, he had the nerve to flash a gloating smile.

Ignorant psychopath. Novak thought he was going to receive a get-out-of-jail-free card in the morning. Instead, he was getting an express ticket straight to hell. Cobalt set the items down, snuck a quick look into the hall—all clear—and chanced waiting outside.

Running into trouble here would mean game over. Thirty seconds for the poison to work, but it only took one sloppy second to get caught. Cobalt hid the rubber-band tension stretching every muscle taut, trying not to snap. Desperation set in and thickened. It was impossible to walk this tightrope forever, but right now, containing this disaster was all that mattered.

Cobalt put on latex gloves, withdrew a hotel keycard—swiped from Novak’s confiscated belongings before it was inventoried—snapped it in half, and ducked back into the room.

Now the messy part. Cobalt ignored Novak’s vacant stare and sawed the jagged edge of plastic across his wrists, his skin still warm. Deep vertical cuts along the radial arteries for a speedy bleed out. Blood flowed across the table, dripping on the tile floor into a pool.

The stage was set for what at first glance would appear to be a suicide. Outright murder would trigger an immediate lockdown of the facility and everyone would be detained.

Heart racing, mind clear, insides numb, Cobalt took the doughnuts and coffee for disposal.

Bruce Sanborn, director of the Gray Box, was a shrewd, careful man. The director would order an autopsy and begin counterintelligence polygraphs as soon as possible.

Both would take days, time Cobalt needed to set the fail-safe in motion. Shocking how easy it was to form a plan on the fly after hearing about Novak’s pending deal.

Then again, this wasn’t the first time Cobalt had plotted and killed to survive. And before this was finished, it wouldn’t be the last.

02

Gray Box Headquarters, Northern Virginia

Thursday, July 4, 5:25 p.m. EDT