Chapter 3 The War Lord

• The footsteps above David's head were careful, measured. Professional.
• He pocketed both phones and moved deeper into the warehouse shadows, every instinct from his former life screaming warnings.
• The smart play was to leave. Walk out the same door he'd entered and pretend this conversation with Jake had never happened.
• Instead, he found himself moving toward the metal stairs.
• Old habits died hard. Alexander Kane never left without knowing who was watching him.
• The second floor stretched out in darkness, broken machinery and empty crates creating a maze of hiding spots.
• David moved between them silent as smoke, muscle memory guiding his steps. He hadn't done this in three years, but his body remembered.
• A soft click made him freeze. Safety disengaging on a pistol, maybe twenty feet to his right.
• "Interesting company you keep, Mr. Miller."
• David's blood went cold. The voice was female, professional, with just a hint of Brooklyn accent. Not Crimson Syndicate…they would've shot first. Not federal…too casual. Private sector.
• "Or should I say, Mr. Kane?"
• David stepped out from behind a crate, hands visible but ready to move. "Who's asking?"
• A figure emerged from the shadows near the far wall. Mid-thirties, auburn hair pulled back in a severe bun, wearing the kind of practical clothing that suggested she worked for a living.
• The gun in her hand was steady, pointed at center mass.
• "Lisa Chen, Chen Investigations. Your wife hired me."
• The words hit harder than Jake's revelations. Sarah had hired a private investigator. His careful suburban cover was unraveling from both ends.
• "When?"
• "Three days ago." Lisa kept the gun trained on him but shifted slightly, putting a concrete pillar at her back. Smart. "She wanted to know more about her husband's past. Said you'd been having nightmares, talking in your sleep. Military terms she didn't recognize."
• David's mind raced. Sarah had noticed. Of course she had…living with someone for three years, you learned their rhythms.
• He'd been getting sloppy, letting pieces of Alexander Kane bleed through the David Miller facade.
• "What did you find?"
• "That's the interesting part." Lisa pulled out a tablet with her free hand, never letting the gun waver. "David Miller exists on paper. Social security number, credit history, employment records. But dig a little deeper, and things get weird."
• She swiped to a document…a death certificate. David's death certificate, dated three years ago.
• "David Miller died in a car accident in Nevada. Single vehicle crash, body burned beyond recognition. Dental records matched, case closed." Lisa's eyes were sharp as razors. "So either you're a very dedicated identity thief, or someone went to a lot of trouble to make David Miller disappear."
• David stared at his own death certificate.
• He remembered that night…the CIA handler who'd arranged everything, the burning car with the John Doe body, the new documents that would let Alexander Kane become someone else entirely.
• "Your wife doesn't know yet," Lisa continued.
• "I was planning to deliver my report tomorrow. But then I got curious about who might be looking for a dead man."
• "And?"
• "I started monitoring your communications, your movements. Imagine my surprise when you got a text tonight from a number registered to a shell company with ties to mercenary operations in the Middle East."
• David's jaw tightened. "You've been following me."
• "It's what I do. Though I have to admit, watching you serve champagne to people who treat you like garbage was pretty painful. If you're some kind of undercover operator, you're really committing to the bit."
• A car door slammed in the parking lot below. Then another. David moved to the window, peering through grimy glass at the scene below.
• Three black SUVs had pulled up around his Honda. Men in dark clothing were stepping out, moving with military precision toward the warehouse entrance.
• "Friends of yours?" Lisa asked, joining him at the window.
• David counted at least eight figures, all armed, all moving like professionals. Too many for Jake's people, wrong approach pattern for federal agents. That left one option.
• "Crimson Syndicate," he said quietly. "They know about tonight's meeting."
• Lisa's gun suddenly felt less threatening and more like potential backup. "How long do we have?"
• "Two minutes, maybe three." David was already moving, muscle memory taking over. "They'll breach simultaneously from multiple entry points. Standard urban assault pattern."
• "We need to get out of here."
• "No. They'll have the exits covered." David grabbed a length of rusty chain from the floor, testing its weight. "We go up."
• "Up where?"
• "Roof access. Most buildings this old have maintenance ladders." He started toward a narrow staircase in the corner. "Stay low, stay
• quiet, and try not to shoot me by accident."
• They climbed in darkness, David's senses hyperalert for any sound from below.
• The roof access door was secured with a simple padlock…easy enough to break with the chain if needed.
• Below them, the warehouse door exploded inward.
• "Go, go, go!" Military voices, coordinated entry. These weren't street criminals. These were professionals.
• David and Lisa crouched behind an air conditioning unit on the roof, watching muzzle flashes sweep through the warehouse windows below.
• The search was systematic, thorough. They knew someone had been here.
• "Motion sensors," David whispered. "They tracked the meeting location."
• Lisa's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, then showed it to David. Text message from an unknown number:
• Stop digging or join him.
• Attached was a photo of a man in a cheap suit, face-down in what looked like a motel room. Blood pooled beneath his head.
• "Who is that?" David asked.
• Lisa's face had gone pale. "Tommy Nguyen. Small-time PI who does work for divorce lawyers and insurance companies. I hired him to help with background checks on your identity."
• David's chest tightened. An innocent man was dead because Sarah had asked questions about her husband. Because David hadn't been careful enough to keep his two lives separate.
• "They're cleaning house," he said. "Anyone who knows about David Miller's real identity becomes a liability."
• "Including your wife."
• The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Sarah was in danger because she'd married Alexander Kane. Because she'd cared enough to investigate when he seemed troubled.
• David's phone buzzed. His regular phone.
• Sarah's name on the screen, but the message was wrong. Too formal, too careful.
• David, I'm at home waiting for you. Please come back so we can discuss your evening plans. Everything is fine.
• "They have her," David said.
• Lisa read the message over his shoulder.
• "How can you tell?"
• "Sarah never says 'discuss.' She says 'talk about.' And she'd never text that everything was fine unless it wasn't." David was already moving toward the roof edge. "Plus, they're monitoring her phone. Want to see how I react."
• "What's the plan?"
• David looked at her…really looked. Lisa Chen wasn't trained for this kind of operation.
• She was a private investigator who took photos of cheating spouses and ran background checks for nervous clients. Getting her killed wouldn't bring Tommy Nguyen back or save Sarah.
• "The plan is you disappear," he said. "Go home, pack a bag, drive to your sister's place upstate. Whatever they paid you for this job, it wasn't enough to die for."
• "And you?"
• David pulled out the secure phone Jake had given him. The black screen stared back at him like an accusation. Five hundred loyal operatives, waiting for Ghost Six to come home.
• "I'm going to get my wife back."
• "Against how many people?"
• "However many it takes."
• Lisa was quiet for a moment, processing the change in his voice. David Miller was gone.
• The man standing next to her on this Brooklyn rooftop was someone else entirely…someone harder, colder, infinitely more dangerous.
• "You're really him, aren't you?" she said. "The Ghost. Jake Morrison wasn't lying."
• "Jake has a big mouth."
• "He also said you were the best soldier he'd ever seen. Said you could disappear into thin air and reappear behind enemy lines like you'd walked through walls."
• David powered on the secure phone. The screen lit up with a simple interface…contact lists, encrypted communications, operational resources.
• Three years of careful civilian life, gone with the push of a button.
• "That was a long time ago."
• "Doesn't look like it." Lisa gestured toward the warehouse below, where tactical flashlights were still sweeping through the darkness.
• "Those men are professionals. Military-trained, well-equipped, probably ex-special forces. And you're talking about going up against them alone."
• "I won't be alone."
• David scrolled through the contact list, names and faces from another life. Marcus Rodriguez in Miami. Chen Wei in Singapore. Dmitri Volkov in Moscow. Killers and kings, bound by loyalty and blood debt to a man who'd supposedly died three years ago.
• His thumb hovered over the first number.
• Once he made this call, there'd be no going back. David Miller would be truly dead, and Alexander Kane would rise from the grave with an army at his back.
• Sarah would learn exactly who she'd married. The careful life they'd built together would crumble.
• But Sarah would be alive.
• David pressed send.
• The phone rang once before a gravelly voice answered. "Ghost Six. We've been waiting."