Page 75 of Broken Oath

Rook approached him.

“Did you sleep?”

Fathom continued typing. “Yes.”

“When?”

“Recently.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”

Rook glanced at the half-empty coffee pot.

“You made that?”

“Yes.”

“What happened to it?”

“I made it.”

That explained everything.

Sniper emerged from the training area with a towel draped around his neck.

“You could use that stuff to remove rust from a battleship.”

Fathom lifted his cup. “More for me.”

“No one else wants it.”

“Then everyone wins.”

Rook stopped beside the center monitor.

“Tell me we found something.”

Fathom didn’t answer immediately.

Never a good sign.

Lines of data moved across the screen.

Files opened.

Closed.

Reopened.

Months of digging.

Months of false identities, hidden accounts, and erased records.

Months of watching seven powerful people without getting close enough to prove which one had sold them out.

Rear Admiral Thomas Grayson had retired from public service three months after the ambush and purchased a home in the Cayman Islands.