A fiery lance tore through the clouds toward the rising smoke and flames. Debris erupted from the tower. The explosion cast Martin’s office in a dull yellow glow. Glowing tracer rounds shattered the building’s windows and sent jagged glass shards raining into the streets. Another two burning bolts emerged from the storm and detonated against the tower in a breathtaking display of flame and shredded steel.

“What’s going on?” she said, more insistent.

“That’s an AC-130,” Martin said.

A gunship. Shepherd’s request for support. The aircraft hadn’t arrived in time to assist at the bus terminal, but given the fire spewing from the clouds, it was obvious reinforcements had finally arrived in the airspace above Manhattan.

Webb came up on Martin’s right side and supported him. They all began to edge toward the door.

Soon, other men and women burst into the room to grab the communication equipment on the executive desk.

“Colonel, is this building secure?” Martin said.

“You think their team will attack?”

“That gunship is a diversion.”

They’re coming back for me, Alex thought. I knew they wouldn’t abandon me.

Far down the rows of ancient, towering buildings, in the direction of midtown Manhattan, a trail of white smoke rose straight up and then swerved to track the gunship against the overhanging storm clouds. A volley of blazing flares in the shape of angel wings shot out from a dark silhouette that Alex recognized as an AC-130 Spectre. Confused, the missile twisted from its prey and detonated against the flares.

“Damn it,” Webb said.

Tracers arced from the gunship and sped toward the missile’s launch point. Rounds from the aircraft’s howitzers followed. A staccato string of distant explosions reached the tower a few seconds later.

“How many more anti-aircraft units do we have in the area?” Martin said.

“Two Linebackers in Central Park,” Webb said. “I don’t know why they aren’t firing.”

“Find out. Those were just warnings. The next shots are probably for us!”

“Yes, sir.” Webb let go of Martin and then leaned toward Alex. “Keep him here. I’m going to check security.”

Before she could reply, he was gone. So here we are. General Bedford’s daughter taking care of his biggest enemy.

A flash erupted from the gunship, sending fire past Tower 49 and into the roof of an octagonal office building less than two hundred meters away. Alex had just enough time to take in the crown-shaped formation of glass atop the building before the rooftop detonated in a brilliant explosion.

With each barrage, the gunship cast out shimmering lines of tracers and cannon shells. The munitions glowed with a vivid radiance. The scene evoked stories from Greek and Roman mythology – the gunship acting as an angry god throwing fire and lightning onto an offending city. The destruction of the old world skyscrapers left an empty feeling in her stomach. But this was on the NEA. They had provoked this response… hadn’t they?

The gleaming flames from the two burning buildings painted Alex and Martin a dull yellow through the trembling windows. Smoke billowed from the dual infernos, turning the buildings into giant torches of shattered glass and burnt steel.

“Is this how your father plans to rebuild the country?” Martin said.

Alex released his arm. “He’s going to get me back no matter what!”

“He was going to get you back anyway,” Martin said in a mild tone. “I was going to let you go.”

Alex turned to him. “What?”

“In the end, the NEA won’t be able to stop the Directorate from seizing control of this country. I hoped a face-to-face discussion might defuse the situation, but when the bridge exploded and your team fired on us, I assumed the worst: your father never wanted to talk about cooperation, and this was just an excuse for annihilating the NEA. However, when Colonel Webb reported he had you in custody, I thought we might still accomplish something.”

“What?”

“I believe you’re the only one who can stop your father from trying to recover the… Anomaly.”

She considered Martin’s words as another shell exploded against the adjacent tower. The office windows shuddered. She waited until the glow faded and then shook her head. “If anything you’ve said about this Anomaly is true, then my dad must have a good reason to go looking for it. He wouldn’t do it unless it was for the good of the country.”

The thuds of hurried boot steps caused her and Martin to look toward the doorway. Webb ran in. “Sir, we’re under attack!”

“Calm down, Colonel,” Martin said. “What’s going on?”

“I lost communications with the lobby. I checked the security monitors. It’s a mess down there. A firefight. We’re taking casualties.”

“How many guards on this floor?”

“Six. I have them watching the elevators and the stairwells. I called for reinforcements, but most of our men are at 383 Madison and Tower 49 evacuating our equipment.”

“I see.” Martin turned from Webb and spoke to Alex, “It seems our time together is coming to a close.”

“Sir, you need to get to the roof,” Webb said.

An explosion went off outside the door. The walls shook as the hallway lights flickered and then died. Then a burst of automatic gunfire and a second explosion set a pair of tuning forks ringing in Alex’s skull.

Webb looked desperately around the room and then ran toward Martin’s desk and picked up Alex’s handgun. He chambered a round. Alex backed away from him but found herself up against the cold glass of the office window. Webb grabbed her, spun her around to cover the front of his body, and then wrapped his arm around her neck while holding the gun to her head.

This feels… familiar, Alex thought.

Two figures rushed into the room and veered off into separate corners. Both men trained their rifles at Webb and Martin.

“Get down on the ground and drop your weapon!” Sergeant Wilson, the team leader of Alpha, shouting at Webb.

The flames pouring from the two skyscrapers illuminated the second figure: Specialist Park.

Alex tried to struggle away from Webb but he pulled his forearm against her neck and cut off her airway.

“Let her go!” Park said.

Webb’s voice, flat, mechanical, and unemotional, spoke past her left ear, “Let the general leave first.”

“No one is going anywhere,” Wilson said.

“I’ve got the shot,” Park said.

“Even if you shoot, I’ll crush her larynx or break her neck,” Webb said.

“Put the gun down, Colonel,” Martin said in a calm voice. Webb’s grip relaxed enough to allow Alex to breath.

“Sir?”

“There’s nothing more we can do. Enough people have died today.”

“Listen to what he has to say, kid,” Wilson said.

From outside the office, someone called out, “Cylinder!”

Alex recognized the word as part of a signal their team used to confirm the presence of friendly forces.

“Axis!” Park yelled in response.

Five more figures came in from the darkened hallway. As each man took up position around the room, she made a mental note of their presence. Williams and Jarden skirted the walls and halted several meters to her left while Murray, Fletcher, and O’Brian maneuvered to cover the doorway and the remaining corners. Alex wondered with alarm, But where’s—

Shepherd resolved like a ghost from the shadows. His face was grimy, his fatigues stained with sweat, dirt, and powder. In the dim light, he was not wearing his goggles, but she knew him by his movements and silhouette. All at once, she felt like running to him and hitting him for leaving her and then embracing him for coming back. Webb’s grip tightened around her neck, pulling her back as she tried to take a step forward.

Shepherd looked across the room, made eye contact with Alex for a brief moment, and then walked to Sergeant Wilson. “I’ll take care of this. Have your team cover the hallway. Keep our exits clear.”

Wilson pointed toward Williams and Jarden and then tapped Park on the shoulder before gesturing toward the door. The four men left the room, leaving Murray and O’Brian pointing their rifles at Webb while Fletcher held his weapon at the ready near Martin.

“Are you all right?” Shepherd said as he approached Alex.

“Stay back,” Webb growled, cutting off her attempt to answer.

Shepherd stopped and held up his hands. “Tell me what you want.”

“General Martin gets out. Once he’s safe, you get the… you get her. I’ll stay behind.”

“Colonel, this isn’t necessary,” Martin said.

Webb shook his head. “I won’t let them take you.”

“You mean… I might give up valuable information?” Martin seemed amused.

“No!” Webb said emphatically. “Without you, we have no alliance. You’re the only one who can hold it together.”

Again, Martin’s voice had an amused undertone. “You’ve just told them one of our biggest secrets, Colonel!”

“We came here to start a peace parley,” Shepherd said. “We didn’t want a war.”

Webb snorted. “I know how you operate. You set us up. You came talking about peace, but your intention was to wipe us out.”

“You think General Bedford would risk his daughter if that was the plan?”

“She was supposed to be your ultimate weapon. But I neutralized your ultimate weapon.”

Martin sighed. “Colonel Webb, please desist. You just gave up another of our secrets.”

Alex said, breathlessly, “Dad… General Bedford wanted to open a dialogue with the NEA. I was just along as an observer.”

“Have you observed enough?” Webb asked.

“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Shepherd said.

“You’re right. I’ve told you what needs to happen. Let General Martin go or I will pull this trigger. I’m sure you know what a .45 round can do from this close, Captain.”

“If you hurt her—”

“Don’t threaten me. You have thirty seconds.”

“How do you think this will end?”

“When General Martin is away in one of our helicopters, I’ll let Ms. Bedford go. Simple as that.”

“I need a guarantee you won’t shoot Alex as soon as General Martin is gone.”

“All I have is my word. Ten seconds.”

“I’ll be okay,” Alex said.

Shepherd glanced at her. “Let me handle this.”

“He won’t hurt me.”

“Five seconds, Captain.”

Shepherd held her gaze for a long moment and then turned back to Webb. “Fine. Deal. How do you want to do this?”

“General Martin, Ms. Bedford, and I will follow your team to the roof. I have a pilot waiting in a Black Hawk. When General Martin is safely away, you get your girlfriend back.”

Girlfriend? Alex was outraged but kept her temper. To him I’m just a girlfriend?

Shepherd turned to Martin. “General, tell your forces to stand down. If I see any of your men before we make it to the roof, the deal is off.”

“I’ll need a radio,” Martin said.

Webb let go of Alex. She rubbed at her neck and took several deep breaths. A heavy object tapped her shoulder. She turned to see Webb holding out a radio in one hand with her gun, pointed at her skull, in the other.

“Here. Give this to the general.”

She took the radio and handed it to Martin. He turned a dial atop the device and then pressed the transmit button. “This is General Martin to all NEA forces in the Lower Manhattan area. I am ordering an immediate stand down. Colonel Jefferson will assume command until further notice. Out.”

Once Martin finished, Shepherd called out, “Is the stairwell clear?”

Murray answered from down the hall. “I hope you aren’t going down, because there ain’t no down anymore!”

“Don’t worry,” Shepherd said. “Sergeant Wilson, get Alpha moving up the stairwell. We’re going to the roof. We’ll be on your six.”

“Moving, sir!” Wilson said.

“All right,” Shepherd said. “Let’s go.” He pointed to Fletcher and then gestured at the door. Fletcher moved into the hallway. Shepherd followed. Murray and O’Brian kept their rifles on Webb as they backed toward the exit.

“Walk slowly and don’t make any sudden movements,” Webb said to Alex.

She complied with the order, walking slow until she reached the doorway. Once outside the office, set off after Shepherd. Murray and O’Brian stayed between her and the rest of the team, walking several meters ahead of her and matching her pace. They kept their rifles at the ready although no longer pointing at Webb.

Her gaze drifted around the hallway as the men switched on their weapons’ combat lights. The sterile and unremarkable surroundings reminded her of Cheyenne Mountain. Much like Martin’s office, the corridor was devoid of decoration or detailing.

The corridor opened into a lobby with an empty reception desk and a bank of three elevators. Bullet and shrapnel holes peppered the area. Six bodies in NEA uniforms lay near the elevators. Near the desk, an open doorway led into a stairwell.

The men filed through the door one-by-one. Shepherd halted and peered past her and Webb. Martin lagged several meters down the hall. Even at their slow pace, he was having difficulty keeping up.

She turned to Webb. “We have to help General Martin. You take the right and I’ll take the left.”

Webb hesitated, obviously reluctant to lower the handgun.

“Webb is a ‘kinetic like me,” Alex said. “He’s going to help me get General Martin up to the roof.”

The word kinetic went through the men like an electric charge. Murray, O’Brian, and Fletcher backed away while Shepherd gave her a curious look. She nodded at him as if to say, It’s okay, trust me.

Shepherd pointed at the stairwell. “Okay, let’s keep moving. Pops, Alpha will stay a floor above of us. They’ll get to the roof first and make sure everything is secure. I want you and O’Brian to watch the colonel. Keep at least one flight between yourselves and Alex.”

“Will do,” Murray said.

Shepherd disappeared into the doorway. Murray and O’Brian followed. Alex waited until it sounded like the team had moved up at least one flight of stairs before going through the door. She found herself on a small landing within the stairwell’s claustrophobic confines. Although the flights upward looked intact, the walls and ceiling just below had collapsed into impenetrable rubble. They must have blown the stairwell to make sure no one followed them. Good thing we’re going up and not down.

Webb guided Martin through the door and then shoved Alex’s handgun into his belt. “It’s a long way up,” he said before adding with a sneer: “Sure you can make it?”

Alex ignored him and took her position at Martin’s side. Above them, the footsteps of Sergeant Wilson’s team clattered upward. They began their ascent.

Martin was soon breathing hard. Sweat fell from his chin and the lower edges of his mask.

After several landings, Martin’s gasps became louder. He stopped and turned to Alex. “I’m sorry to be such a bother.”

“Do you need something to drink?”

Martin took several deep breaths and then coughed. “N-No. I’m better. Let’s go on.”

By the time they passed the fifty-fourth floor, Alex wished they had taken the elevators. The air was heavy and stale. Sweat drenched her uniform. She found herself holding more tightly to Martin, finding extra strength in his good left side. Across from her, Webb was also breathing heavily, sweat dripping from his cheeks and chin onto his fatigues. Her tired features gazed back from the black membrane covering his face. She almost gasped at all the cuts and bruises she had sustained throughout the day.

All at once, her reflection wavered. The world seemed to fall away. She was looking across a landing pad surrounded by snow and ice. She squinted and saw her father. A parka covered his uniform. He held onto a silver briefcase as he entered a helicopter. An icy blast of wind made her teeth chatter and her skin break out in goose bumps. Another person she could barely see through the snowstorm held out his hand. Her father turned and grasped it tightly. Then he stepped into the passenger compartment and the door shut behind him.

“What’s wrong?” Webb’s voice caused the vision to fade.

Alex blinked and rubbed at her forehead. “W-What happened?”

“You stopped,” Webb said.

Martin looked at her, his steel- blue eyes visible even in the dim light. “Alex needs to rest, too.”

That other figure was this man: General Martin! He and Dad were together in Antarctica!

“Sorry,” she said. “Let’s go.”

She glanced at Webb again but he was struggling to hold up Martin’s right side. The metal boot made a nerve-wracking click whenever it struck the stairs.

Shepherd’s familiar bootsteps approached down the stairs.

Webb shouted, “Keep your distance!”

“Alex, are you okay?” Shepherd said as soon as he rounded the corner above them.

It’s about the mission. It’s always about the mission. Got to finish the mission.

“I’m fine,” she gasped. “Keep going!”

Several minutes later, they reached the rooftop access beyond the upper landing. Alex stopped and bent over while holding her thighs and gasping. Back near the final flight of stairs, O’Brian clutched the railing and retched.

Lot tougher than chugging beer.

Sergeant Murray went to the door and held it open to allow the cold outside breeze into the building. Alex closed her eyes and relished the feeling of the air moving across her face.

“Keep moving,” Webb said. “Once we’re outside, go twenty feet and stop.”

From the stillness, closeness, and silence of the stairwell, they entered an atmosphere tearing itself apart. The grey-bellied clouds were now black, covering the city from horizon to horizon. Sharp gusts of wind pushed against them, so that they had to lean against it. Lightning burst upon them in sheets, and the thunder seemed magnified, soul-churning as if they were in its belly.

Alex looked up. The gunship had disappeared into the storm, if it was still there at all.

And Martin is going to take a helicopter up in weather like this!

The rooftop was rectangular and flat with a waist-high wire mesh railing along the perimeter. Three helicopters occupied the building’s heliport. Sheets of tarpaper painted the same color as the roof helped to camouflage the port. The closest helicopter was a UH-60 Black Hawk, a familiar sight in the skies above Colorado Springs. One of the other machines she recognized from Vietnam-era history films: A UH-1 with empty machinegun mounts and open cabin doors. From the holes and rust across the airframe, she doubted it could fly. The third helicopter was small and colored a faded blue and white with the words Police and New York City painted on its side.

She stopped and shielded her eyes from the rain once she had gone twenty feet from the stairwell. Shepherd continued toward two men in grey flight suits at the edge of the helipad. The rest of the team spread across the roof to form a rough semicircular formation in front of Alex, Webb, and Martin.

Firestorms twisted through the two adjacent skyscrapers. The black smoke rising from the flames seemed to mate with the storm clouds as if the sky were reaching down to touch the burning buildings. The silhouettes of other dark and empty high-rises surrounded the rooftop. A distant thunderclap drew her attention toward the terraced crown of the Chrysler Building. Then as she turned back toward the helipad, the looming profile of the Empire State Building emerged from hazy downpour just over half a mile away.

Shepherd finished talking with the two men and returned to Martin. “Your people are ready to take you out of here, General.”

“Thank you, Captain. I wish we could have met under better circumstances.”

“I think we’ll see each other again.”

“So do I, I’m afraid,” Martin said and then limped closer to Webb. “We’ll negotiate for your release, Aaron. I apologize I can’t do more at the moment.”

“This is my decision, sir. Just make sure the Directorate pays for what they did today.”

Martin gave Webb a feeble nod before looking at Alex. “Remember what I told you. I believe you’ll do the right thing, Alexandra. I…” Martin’s voice wavered as he closed his eyes. He reached his left hand up to his face, and it seemed for a moment he might remove the mask. Instead, he shook his head and offered her a faint smile. “It was a pleasure to see you again. Give your father my regards.”

Martin turned away slowly toward the heliport.

“Wait!” Alex said. “You haven’t told me what my father saw!”

Martin hesitated. “I don’t think it’s my place to tell you.”

“I want to know!”

On the helipad, the Black Hawk and the smaller police helicopter came to life. Their rotors began to spin, and within moments, the individual blades merged into circular blurs against the atmospheric darkness. Over the howling turbines, Martin shouted, “He saw your mother!”

“What do you mean? My mother—”

“I have to insist you go, General!” Shepherd said in a loud voice, barely audible to Alex from where she stood.

“I’m sorry, Alexandra!” Martin shouted. “Ask your father for the truth! He owes you that much!”

Shepherd took Martin’s shoulder and guided him toward the Black Hawk. As Alex watched Martin go, she tried to process everything he had told her. Could any of it be true? This all had to be some elaborate lie, a desperate attempt by the NEA to turn her against her father. But why would Martin tell such a fantastical tale when it would have been so much easier to tell lies that made sense?

And that mask. What is he hiding?

A birthmark. Doubtful. Had the same incident that battered his body also disfigured his face?

Martin climbed into the Black Hawk’s cabin. Once he was inside, Shepherd shut the door and backed away. The police helicopter lifted into the air and circled the rooftop. Alex shielded her eyes from the wind and the cutting rain. A few seconds later, Martin’s helicopter ascended as well. By the time the wind calmed enough for Alex to look up into the sky, the aircraft had shrunk into tiny specks to the east.

“I assume you want this back.” Alex turned. Webb held out her handgun by the slide. She took the weapon and then heard footsteps from behind.

“Get away from him, Alex,” Shepherd said. She stepped back, and he moved in front of her, blocking her view. He unslung his rifle and confronted Webb. “Get down on the ground and put your hands on the back of your head.”

“That isn’t—” Webb began but then Shepherd smashed his rifle’s butt stock into Webb’s skull. Webb fell to his knees with a grunt of pain. Shepherd grabbed his uniform and flung him hard to the ground.

“He didn’t hurt me…” Alex said hesitantly.

“He held you at gunpoint,” Shepherd said. “He was in charge of the force that killed Hensley and Neill.”

“Two of your men for over thirty of ours,” Webb said. “And yet, I’m sure Ms. Bedford can attest that she was treated well in our custody.”

“You think you’re so much so much better than us, Colonel?” Shepherd asked. “You’re in for a rude awakening.”

“What are you talking about?”

Shepherd didn’t reply, instead turning toward Wilson. “Sergeant, have your team secure this prisoner!”

“Yes, sir!” Wilson gestured toward two members of Alpha before moving toward Webb.

“I assume you have read the Geneva Convention regarding treatment of prisoners of war?” Webb said from the ground.

“I’ll give you the Geneva Convention!” Murray growled. “You can shove it up your ass!”

To her surprise, Webb gave Murray a wide smile, as if saying: Screw you, Sergeant!

“Let’s get out of this.” Shepherd took Alex by the shoulder and guided her away. Wilson bound Webb’s hands with a zip cuff and then pulled a black fleece cap over his head and eyes. Murray glared at Webb for a moment and then followed Shepherd.

Back in the stairwell, Shepherd touched his headset and broadcast, “Hotel 6, this is Echo 1-1, do you read me? Over.”

A faint chatter sounded from Shepherd’s earpiece, and after a few seconds, he replied, “Understood, Echo 1-1, out.”

“What’s the deal?” Murray said.

“The Osprey is a few minutes out. They’ll evac us from the roof and fly back to the Strykers. Trouble is they don’t want to risk landing up here in this weather. We have to wait until the storm dies down.”

From just outside the door, Alex heard sullen muttering from the men pulling security. They were all exhausted, sore, and soaking wet.

“Tell you what,” Murray said finally. “Let’s start a little bonfire and toast this asshole’s weenie on it while we wait!”