Chapter 1 - Code Black
Marcus grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled my head backward.
His other hand came toward my face.
I caught his wrist, stepped inside the swing, and drove my fist across his jaw.
His body spun sideways.
He crashed into the grill hard enough to send bottles, hamburger trays, and metal utensils across the patio.
Forty relatives stopped talking.
Fireworks continued exploding above the neighborhood as though nothing had happened.
Marcus pushed himself away from the grill.
Blood appeared at the corner of his mouth.
“You are nothing but a fake soldier.”
He lunged.
I turned his wrist, locked his elbow, and threw him onto the wooden patio.
The impact knocked the air from his lungs.
“Do not touch me again.”
My father stood near the American flag with a grilling fork in his hand.
“Sarah, let him go.”
“He grabbed me.”
“He is drunk.”
“That does not give him permission.”
My father’s face darkened.
“You come home once a year and act like you are better than everyone.”
I released Marcus and stepped backward.
The concealed earpiece inside my right ear crackled.
A voice cut through the static.
“Code Black. Move now.”
Every muscle in my body changed.
The family argument disappeared.
The patio.
The flags.
The music.
The smell of smoke and beer.
All of it became background information.
Code Black meant an active threat had identified the protected principal.
Tonight, that principal was me.
I turned toward the driveway.
My cousin Denise stood near the sliding glass door. She watched my face and immediately understood that something was wrong.
Marcus forced himself upright.
“You are walking away again?”
“I have to leave.”
He reached for a broken bottle near the grill.
My father moved in front of the side gate.
“No. You are not storming out after attacking your brother.”
“Move.”
“You owe him an apology.”
The voice inside my ear returned.
“Main route compromised. Vehicle team twenty seconds out. Unknown shooter may be inside the residence.”
I looked toward the second floor windows.
One curtain moved.
The house had been empty when the party began. Everyone remained in the backyard except several children and two elderly relatives.
Someone else was inside.
“Dad, get away from the gate.”
“You do not order me in my own home.”
I shoved past him.
Marcus charged from behind with the broken bottle raised.
Denise screamed.
I dropped low, swept Marcus’s legs, and sent him onto the grass. The bottle flew from his hand and shattered against the fence.
The street began vibrating beneath heavy engines.
Four black sport utility vehicles entered the cul de sac at high speed.
They crossed the curb, blocked both exits, and stopped across our driveway.
Doors opened before the vehicles stopped moving.
Armed operators poured onto the lawn.
Relatives screamed and retreated toward the house.
“Everybody down,” a commander shouted.
My father stared at me.
“What did you do?”
I did not answer.
Commander Ethan Cole reached me first.
He wore tactical armor over a dark uniform and carried a rifle across his chest.
He positioned his body between me and the upstairs window.
“Ma’am, they found you first.”
A suppressed gunshot struck the patio light above us.
Glass rained over the grass.
The operators returned controlled fire toward the upper window.
No wild shots.
No panic.
Two teams moved along opposite sides of the house.
Another secured the family beside the fence.
Marcus attempted to stand.
An operator forced him back down.
“That is my sister,” Marcus shouted. “She caused this.”
Cole looked at the broken bottle beside him.
“Keep your hands visible.”
My father moved toward me.
“Sarah, who are these people?”
“Get everyone behind the stone wall.”
“You are a secretary.”
Another shot struck the brick near his shoulder.
I grabbed his shirt and pulled him down.
“Move now.”
The authority in my voice finally reached him.
Denise gathered the younger cousins while two operators pushed the adults toward cover.
Cole spoke into his radio.
“Alpha entering west side. Bravo secure the staircase. Principal remains mobile.”
My father looked at me.
“Principal?”
I removed the earpiece.
The small device carried no military branding. It looked like an ordinary hearing aid.
Six years of classified operations sat behind it.
“My assignment was never administrative.”
Marcus laughed from the grass.
“You expect us to believe you command these men?”
Cole heard him.
“Major Sarah Whitaker is the operational commander of the unit currently keeping your family alive.”
The laughter stopped.
A crash came from inside the house.
Then three gunshots.
A voice reported through Cole’s radio.
“Second floor clear. Shooter moved toward basement.”
My father’s face lost color.
“The basement door is locked.”
“No,” Denise said.
Everyone looked at her.
She pointed toward the kitchen.
“I saw a man enter through it twenty minutes ago.”
“Who?” I asked.
“I thought he was one of Dad’s friends.”
My father looked away.
That movement told me he recognized the description before Denise gave it.
“Gray jacket,” she said. “Military haircut. Silver watch.”
Cole turned toward my father.
“Name.”
My father remained silent.
Another operator emerged from the house holding a compact rifle and an electronic receiver.
“Shooter abandoned the weapon. Basement tunnel door is open.”
Our basement had no tunnel.
At least, no tunnel my family knew existed.
Cole examined the receiver.
“This was tuned to Major Whitaker’s encrypted channel.”
Someone had not followed me from the street.
Someone had entered the family home carrying equipment designed to hear my classified communications.
I looked at my father.
“Who did you invite?”
He stared toward the dark basement door.
“Patrick Vale.”
May you like
The name belonged to a former military contractor I had been investigating for eleven months.
Continue to the next part: Sarah must discover why her father secretly invited the man her unit believed was supplying stolen military technology.
