Chapter 8 - Burn Notice
Within an hour of leaving Sterling’s residence, the blow fell.
My Department of Defense credentials flashed red at the entrance gate of the shipyard. My cell phone service abruptly severed. When Agent Lin attempted to run our vehicle through the automated checkpoint, two armored tactical vehicles from Naval Base Security blocked our exit, high-beams blinding us in the tropical night.
"Commander Avery! Step out of the vehicle with your hands raised!" a voice boomed over a loudspeaker.
"They're framing us," Lin said, racking the slide of her service weapon. "They’ve pulled your security clearance and filed an emergency detainer. They claim you leaked classified undersea dive specs to an unvetted news outlet."
"Keep that gun holstered, Maya," I said calmly, calculating the distances. "If we shoot Shore Patrol, Sterling wins instantly. We become terrorists."
"Then what's the play?"
"Santos and Reed aren't in this car."
I opened the door and stepped out into the blinding white light, my hands visible, chin held high. "I am Commander Robert Avery, operating under Presidential Executive Directive 12333 oversight. I submit to temporary custody under protest, demanding immediate communication with the Judge Advocate General."
Four military police officers threw me against the hood of the sedan. Cold steel handcuffs clamped around my wrists, cinching down tight against my skin. They separated me from Lin, threw a black canvas transport hood over my head, and tossed me into the back of a secure van.
The vehicle drove for nearly forty-five minutes. When the doors finally opened and the hood was yanked from my face, I wasn't in a base brig.
I was in an abandoned torpedo workshop inside the naval ammunition depot at Lualualei. Standing before me in civilian tactical clothes were three men wearing unmarked plate carriers. None of them wore nametags, but their bearing screamed private maritime security.
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"The Admiral gave you a chance to retire, Commander," the lead contractor said, pulling an iron pry bar from a wooden tool chest. "Now you're just salvage."
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