“They have ignored three warnings on the international distress frequency.”

“Do you have a visual?” I asked.

“We have our Seahawk helicopter overhead now,” Vance said. “The decks appear clear, but they are riding low in the water.”

“What is your distance?”

“Five nautical miles and closing, ma’am.”

I looked at the digital map on the screen in front of me.

My mind moved through the rules of engagement.

“Vance, fire a warning shot across their bow,” I said.

“If they do not alter course within five minutes, board them.”

“Understood, Admiral. Warning shot authorized.”

“Keep this channel open,” I said.

I took off the headset and set it on the table.

The plane began to taxicab toward the runway.

I looked down at my phone.

There were four missed calls from Caroline and three from my father.

A text message from Nathan Reed popped up on the screen.

*Evelyn, please call me. We need to talk about the reassignment order.*

I stared at the text.

The reassignment order had already been processed by the Pentagon.

Nathan was being transferred to a desk job in Alaska.