I walked over and picked up the notebook.

My father’s handwriting filled the first page, messy and hurried.

Suddenly, headlights swept across the corrugated metal walls.

A black SUV screeched to a halt right outside the open unit.

The high beams blinded me.

Two figures stepped out into the rain, flanked by men holding short-barreled rifles.

“Natalie,” a cold, familiar voice called out.

My mother stood under a black umbrella held by a man in a dark suit.

Beside her was Harlan Voss, the Deputy Director of Advanced Research.

“Put the book down, Natalie,” Voss said.

His voice was calm, almost bored.

“Your father was a traitor, and you are in possession of stolen materials.”

“He’s alive, isn’t he?” I demanded, holding the notebook tight against my ribs.

Caroline stepped forward, her face pale and expressionless in the glare of the headlights.

“He is a threat to everything we built,” she said.

“Give us the tape inside that monitor, Natalie. Don’t make this difficult.”

One of the armed men raised his weapon.

A sharp crack echoed through the wet air.

The armed man grunted and collapsed into the mud.

“Get down!” a woman yelled from the darkness behind the SUV.

A gray sedan roared into the lot, its tires spraying gravel and dirty water.

The passenger door swung open.

“In the car, Mercer! Now!”

I recognized her immediately from the internal security bulletins.

Mara Ellison, the rogue FBI agent the Pentagon had been hunting for weeks.

She fired two more rounds from her service weapon, forcing Voss’s men to scramble for cover.

I grabbed the video monitor, tucked the notebook under my arm, and bolted.

Bullets chipped the concrete door frame behind me, sending gray dust into the air.

I threw myself into the passenger seat of Mara’s sedan.

She slammed the car into reverse, tires screaming, before shifting into drive and tearing out of the lot.