His silver hair was plastered to his forehead by the rain.

He looked older than his sixty-two years, his face pale and hollow under the fluorescent lights.

He looked at the gun in Hayes’s hand, then at me, and finally at Madison.

“Donald,” my father said, his voice shaking. “The gate alarms are bypassed, but I saw headlights down on the main road.”

“It’s the military police,” I said. “They’re already on their way.”

Richard closed the door, but he didn’t lock it.

He took two steps into the narrow room, his wet shoes squeaking on the linoleum.

“We need to leave,” Richard said, ignoring me and addressing Hayes. “The boat is ready at the marina. We can be across the border in two hours.”

“There is no ‘we’ anymore, Richard,” Hayes said, his voice cold.

He didn’t lower his gun from my chest.

“Your daughter just broadcasted my confession to base operations.”

My father stopped.

He looked at the dark radio receiver, then at the red light that had now faded.

“What did you do, Natalie?” Richard asked, his voice cracking.