Chapter 6
Thomas Reed did not speak for almost a minute.
Naomi watched him absorb the possibility that his brother might be alive.
Then training returned.
He looked at the cloned badge.
“We verify first.”
Jonathan, who had reached Ava’s room seconds after Naomi, picked up his daughter.
She clung to him.
“What do we know about Malcolm’s death?”
Reed swallowed.
“Car accident.”
Naomi almost groaned.
Everyone looked at her.
“Sorry.”
“No,” Reed said. “You’re right.”
The pattern had become absurd.
Car accidents.
Plane crashes.
Medical events.
Deaths that ended inconvenient questions.
Jonathan asked, “Body?”
Reed stared.
“Closed casket.”
Naomi’s pulse increased.
“Identification?”
“My mother.”
“Dental?”
“I don’t know.”
Reed sat on the edge of a chair.
“I was overseas on assignment.”
Jonathan looked at Miriam.
“Pull everything.”
Within thirty minutes, they had Malcolm Reed’s death file.
Single-car crash.
Vehicle fire.
Body badly burned.
Identification based on personal effects, vehicle registration, and family confirmation.
No dental comparison.
No DNA.
Naomi looked at Reed.
“Your mother saw him?”
“She saw what they told her was him.”
Jonathan’s face hardened.
“Who handled the investigation?”
Miriam read.
“Private county contractor.”
Name:
Crane Forensic Services.
Everyone went silent.
Dr. Samuel Crane.
The neurologist who had just filed a false incapacity affidavit against the President.
Reed stood.
“I’m going to kill him.”
Naomi stepped in front of him.
“No.”
He stared.
“You of all people—”
“Especially me.”
She lowered her voice.
“You want truth, not revenge.”
He looked away.
Good.
Miriam continued.
“Crane’s company handled medical certification for the crash.”
Jonathan said, “So Malcolm may have staged his death.”
Naomi shook her head.
“Or someone staged it for him.”
“Why?”
Reed looked at Elena’s files.
“Witness protection without the government.”
Naomi stared.
“What?”
“Malcolm discovered Voss’s plan. Elena said he switched sides.”
“Maybe he didn’t switch to Voss.”
“Maybe he disappeared to fight him.”
Jonathan looked toward Ava.
“And someone using his identity just entered my daughter’s room.”
Reed’s face hardened.
“That does not sound like fighting Voss.”
Ava tugged Jonathan’s collar.
“The man was scared.”
Everyone looked at her.
“How do you know?” Naomi asked.
“He kept looking behind him.”
“Like someone was chasing him?”
She nodded.
Naomi crouched.
“What exactly did he say?”
Ava thought carefully.
“He said, ‘Tell Thomas Malcolm was sorry.’ Then he said, ‘Bluebird is burned.’”
Reed went white.
Naomi saw it.
“What is Bluebird?”
He looked at Jonathan.
“Old family code.”
“Family?”
“Malcolm and me.”
Naomi waited.
“When we were teenagers, our father kept emergency cash and documents in a box under a bluebird painting.”
“What does ‘burned’ mean?”
“In intelligence slang?”
Naomi nodded.
“Compromised.”
Reed stared at the cloned badge.
“The man was warning me.”
“About what?”
“I don’t know.”
Jonathan said, “Find the bluebird.”
Reed’s childhood home had been sold years earlier.
The painting was gone.
But his mother, now living in Maryland, remembered it.
She also remembered Malcolm visiting her three weeks before his supposed death.
“He gave me an envelope,” she said on secure video.
Reed leaned toward the screen.
“What envelope?”
“He said if Thomas ever asked about Bluebird, give it to him.”
Reed stared.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You never asked.”
Naomi almost laughed again.
The sentence should have been engraved over the entire investigation.
Mrs. Reed retrieved an old metal cash box from her attic.
Inside was the envelope.
A courier brought it under guard.
Reed opened it with shaking hands.
One photograph.
Malcolm and Elias Voss.
Another.
Malcolm and Elena Mercer.
A third.
Grant Vale with Dr. Samuel Crane.
Then a letter.
Tom,
If you are reading this, I failed to come back.
Reed stopped.
Naomi stood beside him.
He continued.
Voss is not trying to buy Mercer Data. He is trying to force a federal emergency acquisition.
Jonathan frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Miriam answered first.
“Infrastructure emergency powers could allow the government to compel private cybersecurity systems into temporary federal control.”
Jonathan went still.
“The National Continuity Act.”
Exactly.
Voss needed the law passed.
He needed Mercer Data weakened.
He needed control or chaos around its voting shares.
Then a crisis could justify government seizure or forced integration.
Naomi said, “And Voss positions his own company as replacement contractor.”
Miriam nodded.
Reed read on.
Grant thinks he is blackmailing Voss back. He is not.
Caroline is being positioned as family access.
Jonathan’s face tightened.
Malcolm had known about Caroline before Elena died.
The letter continued.
Elena is helping me collect evidence. Sophia knows enough to stay away. Adrian knows nothing. Jonathan knows nothing because Elena is afraid the presidency makes every private warning political.
Jonathan looked wounded.
Naomi understood Elena’s logic and the damage it caused.
Even good intentions could create isolation.
Then Reed reached the final paragraph.
If I disappear, do not trust the death certificate.
Reed closed his eyes.
Naomi put one hand on his shoulder.
He kept reading.
Crane can make dead people official.
Jonathan’s jaw tightened.
And one more thing.
Voss has someone inside Presidential Protective Detail.
Naomi felt the room freeze.
Everyone looked at Reed.
He looked up immediately.
“Not me.”
Naomi believed him.
Or wanted to.
Jonathan asked, “Did Malcolm name them?”
Reed turned the page.
A single set of initials.
N.B.
Naomi’s stomach dropped.
Naomi Brooks.
Her own initials.
Silence.
Reed stared at her.
Jonathan did too.
Naomi felt something unfamiliar.
Not fear of being harmed.
Fear of being doubted.
“That is not me.”
Reed’s expression changed.
She heard her own earlier words echoing back.
Facts first.
Jonathan said, “Naomi.”
“I have never met Malcolm Reed.”
Reed looked at the letter.
“He knew someone with initials N.B.”
“Could be anyone.”
“In PPD?”
Naomi searched memory.
Then stopped.
“Nathan Briggs.”
Reed looked up.
Former deputy director.
Retired eight months ago.
Naomi continued.
“Initials N.B. He worked residence protection when Elena was alive.”
Jonathan’s face changed.
“I know Briggs.”
“He trained me.”
Reed immediately called records.
Nathan Briggs.
Fifty-seven.
Retired for medical reasons.
Current address Virginia.
Agents sent.
House empty.
Neighbor said he left two days ago.
Naomi felt sick.
Briggs had taught her how to read hands.
How to position around children.
How to distrust convenient explanations.
If he had been working for Voss—
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Text.
NAOMI. IF YOU WANT TO KEEP AVA ALIVE, STOP TRUSTING REED.
She stared.
Another message.
MALCOLM IS ALIVE.
Another.
THOMAS KNOWS.
Naomi looked slowly at Reed.
His face went blank.
“What?”
She showed him.
He read.
“That’s a lie.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I don’t know where Malcolm is.”
“That is not the same statement.”
Reed looked hurt.
Good.
Truth did that.
Jonathan said, “Enough.”
Everyone turned.
“No accusations without evidence.”
Naomi nodded.
Then her phone rang.
Same unknown number.
She answered.
A man’s voice.
Older.
Familiar.
“Nathan Briggs?”
He laughed softly.
“Still quick.”
Naomi’s pulse hammered.
“Where are you?”
“Trying to keep you from making my mistakes.”
“You threatened Ava.”
“No.”
“You said keep her alive.”
“Because Voss has moved to his backup plan.”
“What plan?”
Briggs was silent.
Naomi stepped away from the others.
“What does Reed know?”
“Ask him where Malcolm’s body was buried.”
Naomi looked at Reed.
“What?”
Briggs continued.
“There was no burial.”
Naomi’s stomach dropped.
“What are you talking about?”
“Malcolm’s ashes were given to the family.”
She looked at Reed.
He nodded slowly.
True.
Briggs said, “Ask Thomas who signed for them.”
Naomi did.
Reed stared.
“My mother.”
Briggs laughed.
“No.”
Reed’s face changed.
He searched his memory.
Then whispered, “I did.”
Naomi stared.
Reed sat down.
“I came back three days after the funeral.”
“You signed.”
“Yes.”
Briggs’s voice came through the phone.
“And the cremation authorization?”
Reed looked sick.
“I don’t remember.”
Briggs said, “I do.”
Naomi’s pulse jumped.
“Who?”
“Thomas Reed.”
Everyone froze.
Reed shook his head.
“No.”
Briggs continued.
“Your supervisor authorized the cremation of a body he never identified.”
Reed stood.
“That is not true.”
Naomi stared at him.
He looked terrified.
Not guilty.
But terror had stopped being useful as evidence.
Briggs said, “Voss owns people through the things they forget they did.”
Then the line died.
Naomi looked at Reed.
He whispered, “I was on medication after the crash.”
“What medication?”
“Sedatives.”
Jonathan stared.
The same method.
Reed continued.
“My mother called. I flew home. I remember signing papers.”
“Who gave you the medication?”
Reed’s face went white.
“Dr. Crane.”
The room went silent.
Crane had been building false medical realities for years.
Dead men.
Incapacitated presidents.
Grieving brothers.
Naomi looked toward Ava.
The child was drawing at the desk under an agent’s watch.
Every adult around her carried a compromised memory.
Naomi made a decision.
“No more trusting recollection alone.”
Jonathan nodded.
“Documents.”
“Verified independently.”
Miriam added, “And no one acts alone.”
Good.
Then the secure line rang.
Sophia Mercer.
Jonathan answered immediately.
“Sophia.”
A woman’s voice came through.
“You found Elena’s drive.”
“Yes.”
“Then listen carefully.”
“Where are you?”
“Not Portugal.”
Jonathan closed his eyes.
“Of course.”
Sophia continued.
“Malcolm Reed is alive.”
Thomas Reed stopped breathing.
Jonathan looked at him.
“Where?”
Sophia paused.
“With me.”
Reed grabbed the table.
Naomi stared.
Jonathan said, “Put him on.”
A man’s voice came through.
Older.
Rough.
“Tom?”
Reed made a sound Naomi had never heard from him.
Not a word.
Something between grief and disbelief.
“Malcolm.”
“I’m sorry.”
Reed sank into a chair.
“Why?”
“We had to make Voss believe I was dead.”
“We?”
“Elena. Sophia. Me.”
Jonathan stared.
“My wife helped fake a death?”
Sophia answered.
“Yes.”
“And never told me.”
“No.”
His face hardened.
“Why?”
Malcolm said, “Because Nathan Briggs was inside your protection detail.”
Naomi’s pulse jumped.
“And after Malcolm disappeared,” Sophia added, “Briggs started watching Elena.”
Jonathan went still.
“Are you saying Briggs caused the plane crash?”
Silence.
Then Malcolm said:
“No.”
May you like
Naomi held her breath.
“We think Caroline did.”
