Part 18
The realization that Thomas Thorne was behind the plot,
changed everything in an instant.
The peace I had felt for the past few weeks vanished,
replaced by the cold,
sharp focus of a hunter who realized his quarry was still at large.
I walked out to the backyard,
needing the fresh air to clear the sudden rush of memories,
that threatened to overwhelm my judgment.
Berlin,
1999,
the cold rain slicking the pavement near the checkpoint,
the sound of a train roaring in the distance.
Thorne had escaped me then by sacrificing his entire network,
showing a ruthless pragmatic nature that made him legendary,
among the shadows of the intelligence world.
Now,
he had reached out across decades to strike at my blood,
proving that some debts are never forgotten,
only left to gather interest.
Lily walked out onto the grass,
her steps quiet,
her eyes filled with a deep concern as she came to my side.
"You're going after him,
aren't you?"
she asked softly,
not as a complaint,
but as an acceptance of who her father truly was.
"I have to,
Lily,"
I said,
looking down at her,
"As long as Thorne is free,
we are never truly safe.
He knows who you are,
he knows where we live,
and he has the resources to try again."
"Then let me help you,"
she said,
her jaw setting in a line of determination,
that mirrored my own.
"No,"
I replied instantly,
"This is my past,
and I will finish it alone."
"I'm not the same helpless girl from Haven Crest,
Dad,"
she argued,
stepping closer,
"I survived them for three weeks,
remember?
I know how Julian talked,
I know the codes he used when he thought I wasn't listening."
I paused,
the investigator in me overriding the protective father for a brief second.
"What codes,
Lily?"
I asked,
my voice turning sharp.
"He kept talking about a 'Blackwood arrival' on the fourteenth,"
she said,
remembering the details with surprising clarity.
"He said the courier would confirm the transfer,
using a private terminal at the shipping docks."
I looked at the calendar on my watch,
realizing that the fourteenth was tomorrow night,
and the shipping docks were less than an hour's drive away.
Thorne didn't know his local network had fallen completely,
because Marcus had kept the arrests out of the mainstream media,
to prevent a panic in the markets.
The courier would still be coming,
expecting to meet Julian Vance,
unaware that a trap was being laid in the dark.
"Marcus,"
I called out,
turning back toward the house where my old partner was watching from the doorway.
May you like
"Get your tech team ready,
we have a delivery to intercept tomorrow night."
