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Cole looked between them.
“You know this guy?”
Carter whispered the name.
“Colonel Nathan Voss.”
Mercer’s expression went cold.
“That’s impossible.”
Carter stared at him.
“Why?”
Mercer stepped closer to Voss.
“Because I watched this man die on the island.”
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Voss smiled wider.
“You watched what we wanted you to watch.”
Suddenly, a sharp electronic beep came from his vest.
Mercer’s eyes widened.
“MOVE!”
They threw themselves backward.
The vest released a violent flash.
Not an explosion.
A blinding burst of white light and smoke.
Cole coughed violently.
Carter could barely see.
A side window shattered.
By the time the smoke cleared, Voss was gone.
Mercer ran to the window.
The SUV was already speeding away.
“Damn it!”
Cole checked outside.
The remaining attackers were retreating.
Within seconds, the road was empty.
Carter stood slowly.
“What did he mean?”
Mercer said nothing.
“What did Voss mean?”
Mercer turned around.
“He was Black Tide’s intelligence liaison.”
Carter shook his head.
“No. Voss died before the mission.”
“That’s what they told you.”
The realization hit Carter.
“You knew him?”
Mercer nodded.
“He was on the island.”
Cole stared at both men.
“Someone needs to start explaining this from the beginning.”
Mercer walked toward the broken table and retrieved the data drive.
“You want the beginning?”
He held it up.
“This is the beginning.”
Carter moved toward an old laptop cabinet mounted against the wall.
The equipment was ancient, but still connected to the base emergency network.
“No internet,” Mercer warned.
Carter disconnected the communication cable.
“Now there isn’t.”
Mercer inserted the drive.
The screen flickered.
Several encrypted folders appeared.
BLACK TIDE.
RECOVERY.
SUBJECTS.
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL.
Cole leaned closer.
“Subjects?”
Mercer clicked the folder.
A password prompt appeared.
He typed twelve characters.
The file opened.
Photographs filled the screen.
A laboratory.
Metal containers.
Soldiers strapped to medical tables.
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Carter stepped back.
“What is this?”
Mercer’s voice dropped.
“What Black Tide was really protecting.”
Cole scrolled down.
Then stopped.
One image showed three men standing beside a sealed container.
One was Colonel Voss.
The second was an officer Cole didn’t recognize.
The third—
Carter grabbed the screen.
“No.”
It was a younger James Carter.
Mercer stared at him.
“You said you never reached the island.”
Carter looked genuinely horrified.
“I didn’t.”
“The photograph says otherwise.”
“That isn’t me.”
Cole enlarged the image.
Same face.
Same eyes.
Same scar above the eyebrow.
Even the uniform nameplate read CARTER.
Mercer raised his weapon.
“Start talking.”
Carter backed away.
“I swear to you, I have never seen that laboratory.”
“Then who is that?”
“I don’t know!”
Mercer aimed directly at his chest.
“You expect me to believe someone happened to look exactly like you?”
Cole suddenly noticed a detail.
“Wait.”
He enlarged the photograph again.
“What?”
Cole pointed toward the man’s left hand.
Admiral Carter looked.
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The younger version of him in the photograph was holding a folder.
And on his left wrist was a tattoo.
A black anchor wrapped in faded rope.
The same tattoo Mercer carried.
Carter looked at Mercer.
Mercer looked equally shocked.
“I never saw him,” Mercer whispered.
Cole scrolled farther.
A document appeared beneath the image.
PROJECT MIRROR.
AUTHORIZED SUBJECT REPLICATION TRIAL.
Carter’s breathing stopped.
Mercer whispered:
“No…”
Then the laptop emitted a warning tone.
A new file appeared automatically.
It had not been there before.
Someone had remotely accessed the computer despite the disconnected network cable.
Three words appeared on the screen.
HELLO, DAVID MERCER.
Cole stepped backward.
“That’s impossible.”
Another line appeared.
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED ON THE ISLAND.
Mercer’s hand tightened around his pistol.
Then a third message appeared.
This one was addressed to Carter.
ASK YOUR SON WHY HE HAS THE SAME TATTOO.
Carter went completely still.
“My son?”
His voice barely came out.
Cole looked at him.
“Sir?”
Carter pulled out his phone.
His hands were shaking now.
He opened a photograph taken only two days earlier.
His son, Daniel Carter, stood beside a Navy aircraft, smiling at the camera.
Carter zoomed in on Daniel’s wrist.
There, partially hidden beneath his sleeve, was a black mark.
An anchor.
Wrapped in rope.
Mercer stared at the screen.
Then at Carter.
“You said your son was six when Black Tide happened.”
“He was.”
Carter’s face turned white.
Mercer slowly lowered his weapon.
“Then someone has been preparing him for this…”
A sound came from the hallway.
One slow footstep.
Then another.
Cole raised his pistol.
Mercer turned toward the door.
Carter’s phone suddenly rang.
The caller ID showed only one name.
DANIEL.
Carter answered immediately.
“Son?”
For several seconds, there was only breathing.
Then Daniel Carter whispered:
“Dad, whatever Mercer told you…”
Carter’s eyes widened.
“How do you know Mercer?”
Silence.
Then Daniel said:
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