Page 406 of Broken Oath

“Tell me you have something.”

“I have their identities.”

The stranger’s expression changed.

He was monitoring our communications.

Good.

Sam continued.

“Private military contractors operating through three shell companies. None officially exist.”

“Who hired them?”

“Working on it.”

Fathom entered the channel.

“I have something better.”

“What?”

“A release protocol.”

I looked toward the aircraft.

Fathom stood beside the open ramp with one hand on his portable system.

“I copied the Black Site Theta files to twelve independent servers. If my signal stops—or if any of us fail to check in—the files release simultaneously.”

The stranger’s confidence vanished.

Fathom’s voice carried through the loudspeaker mounted near the aircraft.

“Names. Photographs. Interrogation records. Financial transactions. Everything.”

The men across the runway began exchanging looks.

They had been hired to erase evidence.

Now killing us would release it.

The stranger raised his radio and began arguing with someone.

Good.

Uncertainty spread through his formation.

Madow’s voice came from inside the aircraft.

“He’s bluffing.”

Fathom looked toward him.

“I’m not.”

“You didn’t have time to establish twelve secure archives.”