Chapter 4 Return Of The Ghost

• "Marcus Rodriguez, Miami operations. What's your status, Ghost?"
• The voice on the phone carried three years of waiting, three years of wondering if Alexander Kane was truly dead or just dormant. David closed his eyes, feeling the last pieces of his civilian identity crumble away.
• "Compromised. Wife captured. Need immediate extraction and tactical support."
• "Roger that. ETA to your location?"
• David looked at Lisa, who was still processing the transformation happening in front of her.
• The man she'd been investigating had vanished, replaced by someone who spoke in military shorthand and radiated lethal competence.
• "Negative on extraction. I'm going to ground. Prepare for full operational deployment."
• "Copy. Activating Ghost Protocol. How many assets do you need?"
• David's mind ran through tactical scenarios. Crimson Syndicate had Sarah, which meant they had leverage.
• They'd want to negotiate, not kill…at least not immediately. But they'd also have her guarded by professionals, probably in a secure location.
• "Start with ten. Urban environment, hostage rescue capability. And Marcus?"
• "Yeah, Ghost?"
• "Wake up everyone. All five hundred. This isn't just a rescue mission anymore."
• The line was quiet for a moment. Then: "Understood. Welcome back, sir."
• David ended the call and immediately dialed Jake's number. It went straight to voicemail.
• "Jake, they have Sarah. Whatever game you're playing, it just became real. Call me back in the next hour or I start this war without you."
• Lisa had been watching the warehouse below during his calls. Now she turned back to him with something like awe in her eyes.
• "They're pulling out," she said. "The Crimson people. All the vehicles are leaving."
• David moved to the roof edge. She was right…the black SUVs were disappearing into the night, leaving the industrial district as empty as they'd found it. Too clean, too organized.
• They'd accomplished their real objective.
• His phone buzzed. Not Jake this time, but an unknown number.
• "Alexander Kane," he answered.
• "Well, well. The Ghost rises from the dead." The voice was smooth, cultured, with just a hint of amusement. "This is Jonathan Blake. I believe we met earlier this evening, though you were wearing a different face then."
• David's blood turned to ice. Jonathan Blake..,the CEO who'd offered him a janitor job, who'd humiliated him in front of Sarah's family. Sarah's supposed suitor.
• "Where is she?"
• "Safe. Comfortable, even. Though I suspect that depends entirely on your cooperation." Jonathan's voice carried the confidence of someone holding all the cards. "You have something I need, Alexander. And I have something you want."
• "What do you want?"
• "A conversation. Just the two of us, civilized men discussing mutual interests. I'm sending you an address. Come alone, unarmed, and we can resolve this like professionals."
• David's phone chimed with a text..GPS coordinates for a location in Manhattan.
• Midtown, corporate district. Neutral ground, or at least the appearance of it.
• "How do I know she's alive?"
• "Because killing her serves no purpose. Sarah is leverage, nothing more. Assuming, of course, that you value her life more than your pride."
• The line went dead.
• Lisa was staring at him. "That was the guy from tonight, wasn't it? The CEO?"
• "Jonathan Blake. Apparently he's more than just Sarah's boss's friend." David was already moving toward the roof access door. "He's Crimson Syndicate."
• "You're not actually going to meet him alone, are you?"
• David paused. Lisa Chen had stumbled into a war zone, but she was still thinking like a civilian. In her world, you called the police when someone got kidnapped. You didn't walk into obvious traps armed with nothing but reputation and a three-year-old grudge.
• "It's what he expects," David said. "The legendary Ghost Six, too proud to ask for help, too arrogant to see a trap."
• "And what are you actually going to do?"
• David smiled, and Lisa took an unconscious step backward. The expression belonged to someone who'd learned to find humor in places where normal people found only horror.
• "I'm going to give Jonathan Blake exactly what he wants."
• Twenty minutes later, David walked through the front door of One Manhattan Plaza wearing his best David Miller impression.
• Rumpled shirt, defeated posture, the look of a man who'd been broken by circumstances beyond his control.
• The lobby was marble and glass, corporate wealth displayed like a peacock's feathers.
• Night security waved him through to the executive elevators without question..,his name was on the visitor list, meeting expected.
• Floor 47. Blake Industries occupied the entire level, floor-to-ceiling windows offering views of the city that never sleeps.
• David's reflection in the elevator doors looked every inch the suburban nobody who'd been serving drinks six hours ago.
• The elevator opened onto a reception area . Jonathan Blake stood with his back to the doors, silhouetted against the Manhattan skyline like he owned it.
• "Punctual. I appreciate that in a man."
• Jonathan turned, still wearing that practiced smile. "Please, sit. We have much to discuss."
• David remained standing. "Where's Sarah?"
• "Close by. Safe, as promised." Jonathan moved to a wet bar in the corner, pouring two glasses of something that probably cost more per bottle than David's monthly rent. "Drink?"
• "I don't drink with people who kidnap my wife."
• "Kidnap is such an ugly word. I prefer to think of it as protective custody." Jonathan took a sip of his whiskey, studying David over the rim. "Sarah is in considerable danger, you know. There are people who would hurt her just to send you a message."
• "People like you?"
• "People like the Crimson Syndicate. Though I suppose that distinction is becoming academic." Jonathan set down his glass and walked to the windows. "Tell me, Alexander, what do you know about legitimate business?"
• The question caught David off guard. "What?"
• "Business. Commerce. The movement of goods and services in exchange for profit. You've spent the last three years playing at it, but do you really understand how it works?"
• David said nothing.
• "The truth is, modern business is war by other means. Market domination instead of territorial conquest. Corporate espionage instead of intelligence gathering. Hostile takeovers instead of military coups."
• Jonathan's reflection smiled in the window.
• "The objectives are the same…power, control, the subjugation of one's enemies. We've simply refined the methods."
• "Get to the point."
• "The point, my dear Alexander, is that you've been fighting the wrong war." Jonathan turned back to face him. "Three years ago, you disappeared. Alexander Kane died, and David Miller was born. But you didn't really disappear, did you? You just changed uniforms."
• David's shoulder blade began to throb.
• "What's that supposed to mean?"
• "It means that while you've been playing house in Brooklyn, I've been building an empire. Crimson Syndicate isn't just arms dealers and money launderers anymore. We're a multinational corporation with interests in defense contracting, private security, intelligence services. We're everything you used to be, but better organized and infinitely more profitable."
• Jonathan pulled out his phone, showing David a series of financial documents. Profit margins, revenue streams, corporate acquisitions. The numbers were staggering.
• "Last year alone, we generated 2.3 billion in revenue. This year, we're on track for twice that. All perfectly legal, all completely above board. We've taken everything you taught the world about modern warfare and turned it into a business model."
• David stared at the numbers. "You're using my operations as corporate strategy?"
• "Your operations, Jake Morrison's innovations, techniques developed by every mercenary unit that's operated in the last decade. We've studied them all, refined them, productized them." Jonathan's smile widened. "Why wage war when you can sell the weapons? Why conquer territory when you can buy the governments?"
• "And Sarah?"
• "Sarah is brilliant. MBA from Wharton, instinctive understanding of market dynamics, natural leadership ability. She's exactly what Crimson Industries needs for our expansion into legitimate technology markets."
• David felt the ground shifting under his feet.
• "Crimson Industries?"
• "Our public face. Corporate headquarters in Delaware, offices in twelve countries, stock traded on the NASDAQ. Sarah's been working for us for six months without knowing it."
• Jonathan's expression was pure satisfaction.
• "Morrison Industries is a wholly owned subsidiary. Her promotion wasn't merit…it was recruitment."
• The revelation hit him hard. Sarah's success, her career advancement, even tonight's celebration…all of it orchestrated by the same people who'd killed David's unit and destroyed his former life.
• "You've been watching her. Watching us."