They would have to explain to their friends why the wedding was canceled.

They would have to explain why Nathan was no longer a commander.

My phone lit up again in my hand.

It was an restricted number.

I slid my thumb across the screen to answer it.

“Hart,” I said.

A voice I did not recognize spoke on the other end, urgent and low.

“Admiral Hart, this is the watch officer at the Pentagon. We have an active situation in the Eastern Mediterranean.”

“Go ahead, watch,” I said, leaning forward.

“Ma’am, we have a maritime interdiction unit from the USS *Donald Cook* currently tracking an unidentified merchant vessel off the coast of Cyprus,” the watch officer said.

The line crackled with static.

“The vessel is refusing to answer bridge-to-bridge radio calls,” he continued.

“What is their projected course?” I asked.

“They are heading directly toward the restricted zone near the gas fields, Admiral.”

“Who is the on-scene commander?” I asked.

“Captain Vance on the *Donald Cook*, ma’am,” the officer replied.

“Tell Vance to establish a secure link to my mobile command unit,” I said.