The USS Vanguard was a fast-attack submarine docked at the end of the pier.

“That’s impossible,” Carter said, stepping into the room.

“The Vanguard is locked down for pre-deployment checks.”

“When does she slip her moorings?” I asked, turning to face him.

Carter checked his watch, his wrist trembling slightly.

“Fifty minutes,” he said.

“Forty-eight,” Hayes corrected, looking at the wall clock.

“The transmission is originating from the submarine’s central communications suite,” I said.

“Someone on board is uploading the acoustic signature files right now.”

“Miller,” Hayes growled, grabbing the technician’s collar.

“Who is on the other end of that line?”

Miller closed his mouth tight and stared at the wall.

A muscle jumped in his jaw.

“We don’t have time for this,” I said, grabbing my satchel.

“If that boat submerges with the mirror active, we lose the trace forever.”

“And they get the entire digital footprint of our covert propulsion drive,” Hayes said.

He turned to Carter.

“Call the base security detail,” Hayes ordered.

“Tell them to halt all departure procedures for the Vanguard.”

“I can’t do that, Chief,” Carter stammered.