Page 61 of Broken Oath

“I own a harbor in Alaska.”

Sniper blinked. “A harbor?”

“Most people buy a fishing boat when they retire,” Cutter said. “I’ve never been most people.”

That was true.

“The harbor is outside a small town,” Cutter continued. “Quiet. Isolated. Mostly fishing boats and repair docks. I have an old warehouse at the far end of the property.”

“How old?” Fathom asked.

“Old enough that the original blueprints were drawn by hand.”

“Security?”

“None yet.”

“Utilities?”

“Enough.”

“Internet?”

Cutter looked at him. “It’s Alaska, not the moon.”

Fathom considered that. “Debatable.”

For the first time since the funeral began, a genuine smile almost reached Rook’s face.

Cutter nodded toward the graves.

“You boys need somewhere nobody will ask questions. Somewhere you can disappear while you figure out who betrayed you.”

“And you think Alaska is that place?”

“My harbor is quiet.”

Cutter’s expression grew serious.

“Hidden.”

“Forgotten.”

He looked directly at Rook.

“Perfect for ghosts.”

Rook glanced at Sniper.

Then Fathom.

Neither man hesitated.

“When can we leave?” Rook asked.

“Plane’s waiting.”

Rook looked down at Tex’s photograph.