It belonged to one of the three men who had supposedly died during the extraction thirty years earlier.
Dylan looked confused.
“What does that mean?”
Walter answered:
“It means someone has been alive all this time.”
The following morning, Walter finally told Marcus everything.
The failed extraction had not been an accident.
Their team had been transporting a witness.
The witness possessed evidence of corruption involving a private security contractor.
Someone inside the operation had sold their route.
Three soldiers died.
Walter survived.
Daniel Cross disappeared.
The official investigation concluded that Cross had been killed.
Walter never believed it.
But he had no proof.
Until now.
Marcus listened carefully.
“What was the witness carrying?”
Walter hesitated.
“A list.”
“What kind?”
“Names.”
“Names of who?”
“People involved.”
“Government?”
“Some.”
“Military?”
“Yes.”
“Business?”
“Yes.”
Marcus's face tightened.
“And the list still exists?”
Walter nodded.
“I don't know.”
A knock came at the door.
Dylan entered.
“I found something.”
He placed a phone on the table.
The security camera footage from the attack.
Marcus watched.
Then paused it.
One attacker turned toward the camera.
His face was visible.
Marcus recognized him.
“So does Walter.”
Walter stared.
“Michael Rourke.”
“Who is he?”
“Former contractor.”
“Working for Cross?”
Walter nodded.
“Probably.”
Dylan looked at Walter.
“What do they want?”
Walter stared at the frozen image.
“The list.”
“And where is it?”
Walter didn't answer.
Marcus looked at him.
“You have it.”
Walter finally nodded.
“I thought I lost it.”
“But?”
Walter looked toward the old locker in the corner.
“I hid it.”
The locker had been at Eastbrook for nearly two years.
Walter had never opened it in front of anyone.
He pulled out a key.
The lock clicked.
Inside was an old metal box.
He removed it carefully.
Dylan watched.
Walter opened the box.
Inside was a notebook.
A photograph.
And a small memory card.
Marcus stared.
“You've had that here?”
“For almost two years.”
“Why?”
“Because nobody looks at the janitor's locker.”
Dylan laughed softly.
“That's actually brilliant.”
Walter smiled.
“The best hiding place is the one everyone thinks is boring.”
They examined the notebook.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Companies.
Locations.
Everything Cross had been trying to recover.
Marcus looked at Walter.
“This could expose all of them.”
Walter nodded.
“And that's why they came back.”
Dylan asked:
“What are you going to do?”
Walter looked at the notebook.
“For thirty years, I thought my job was to forget.”
He closed it.
“I was wrong.”
Marcus asked:
“What now?”
Walter looked at Dylan.
“You wanted to know what fighting was about.”
Dylan nodded.
Walter said:
“Sometimes fighting isn't about winning.”
He looked at Marcus.
“Sometimes it's about making sure the truth survives you.”
The three men sat in silence.
Then Dylan spoke.
“I want to help.”
Walter smiled.
“You already did.”
Dylan shook his head.
“No.”
He pointed toward the notebook.
“I mean with this.”
Walter studied him.
Then nodded.
“All right.”
For the first time, the three men stood together.
Not fighter.
Not janitor.
Not coach.
Just three people facing something much larger than themselves.