Vance hung up.
A cold knot tightened in his stomach.
A two-star general commanding critical Department of Defense logistics operations did not simply vanish off the radar ten minutes before a Joint Chiefs briefing.
“Trace her government device,” General Brooks commanded coldly.
“Right now.”
Vance immediately turned to the communications officer sitting at the central tech console.
“Major, initiate an emergency location trace on Terminal Alpha-Nine-Zero-Seven-Reynolds.
Priority Code Alpha-One.
Do it now.”
The communications officer’s fingers flew across his keyboard.
High-altitude defense satellite arrays and civilian cell tower networks cross-referenced the unique cryptographic signature of General Reynolds’ secure DOD phone.
Ten seconds passed.
Fifteen seconds.
A map of the Southeastern United States flashed onto the primary wall monitor.
The software zoomed in rapidly: State of Georgia…
Route 119…
Oak Haven County…
A bright red pulsing dot locked onto a precise geographic coordinate.“Got a lock, Colonel,” the major announced, staring at his screen in confusion.
“The device is active, but it’s stationary.”
“Where is it?”
Vance demanded, stepping up to the console.
“It’s inside a building in downtown Oak Haven, Georgia, sir.”“What building?”The major pulled up the municipal tax maps and overlay satellite data for Oak Haven County.
He blinked, staring at the screen, then looked up at Colonel Vance with a expression of utter bewilderment.
“Sir… the signal is emanating from the Oak Haven County Sheriff’s Office.”Silence fell over the SCIF.General Brooks stood up slowly from his chair.
His face was thunderous.
“The Sheriff’s Office?
Is she involved in an accident?
Was there a crash?”
“Checking local emergency dispatch frequencies,” the major said, putting on a headset.
He listened for twenty seconds, monitoring unencrypted local law enforcement channels.
“No reports of traffic accidents involving her rental vehicle, General.”
“Call that office,” General Brooks ordered, his voice dropping into a razor-sharp register.
“Put it on speakerphone.
And get the Army Legal Command on the line right now.”
CHAPTER FOUR: THE PHONE RING IN OAK HAVEN (16:02 P.M.)
In the lobby of the Oak Haven Sheriff’s Office, the air was thick and stagnant.Sheriff Thomas Ryker was sitting behind his desk in his private office, his boots propped up on the wood veneer, flipping through a local hunting magazine.
Out in the hall, Deputy Jared Miller was leaned against the intake counter, drinking a soda and laughing with Dispatcher Brenda Lawson about a local teenager they had caught speeding earlier that week.
“Yeah, I told him if his daddy didn’t pay the impound fee by five, I was gonna personally lock him up,” Miller chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.At precisely 16:02 p.m., the primary incoming line on Brenda’s switchboard rang.It wasn’t the usual local chime.
It was a sharp, persistent double-ring that indicated an incoming long-distance or official transfer.
Brenda sighed, set her pen down, and picked up the black receiver.“Oak Haven Sheriff’s Office, Lawson speaking.
Is this an emergency?”
“This is Colonel Marcus Vance, United States Marine Corps, calling from the Joint Chiefs of Staff Communications Center at the Pentagon,” a voice barked through the receiver.
The voice was so sharp, so clear, and contained such absolute, uncompromising authority that Brenda instinctively sat up straight in her chair.
“I… excuse me?”
Brenda stammered.
“I am speaking to the duty dispatcher at the Oak Haven County Sheriff’s Office, correct?”
Vance’s voice was crisp, cold, and echoing with the ambient hum of a military command center.
“Yes, sir… ma’am…
I mean, yes, this is Brenda,” she stuttered, her hand suddenly sweating against the plastic receiver.
“Dispatcher Lawson, I am going to ask you a direct question, and I require an immediate, precise answer,” Vance said.
“Is Major General Sarah Reynolds currently inside your facility?”
Brenda blinked.