Chapter 17 - THE TARGET THAT DIDN'T EXISTThe missile was not carrying an explosive warhead.
That was the first surprise.
The second was worse.
Thomas explained that Black Tide had spent twenty years stealing individual components that appeared useless separately—guidance processors, encrypted navigation modules, obsolete military transmitters.
Together, they formed something called NIGHTGLASS.
A weapon that did not destroy ships.
It convinced ships they were somewhere else.
Alter GPS.
Corrupt radar.
Feed false coordinates into civilian navigation systems.
In a crowded Atlantic shipping corridor, ships would begin steering directly into one another.
“The missile is only the transmitter,” Thomas said.
Mara stared at him.
“Who built it?”
Thomas looked at Eleanor.
Eleanor answered.
“We did.”
Nathan stepped back.
Both of their parents had lied.
Both had helped create Black Tide.
But not in the same way.
Thomas had built its logistics network during classified operations.
Eleanor had designed the encryption system controlling it.
When they tried to shut the project down, the organization turned against them.
Their deaths had been staged separately.
Their children had been left behind because both parents believed distance would protect them.
“You abandoned us to protect us?” Nathan asked bitterly.
“No,” Mara said.
She never took her eyes from them.
“They abandoned us because they were afraid.”
Thomas flinched.
Eleanor did not.
She only said:
“Yes.”
That answer made Mara trust her slightly more.
Then Reyes found one surviving Coast Guard frequency.
A panicked voice came through.
Two cargo ships had already changed course.
A cruise ship carrying more than four thousand passengers was beginning to turn.
Straight toward a fuel tanker.
Mara picked up the radio.
“This is Commander Vance. Listen carefully.”
Behind her, Thomas whispered:
“If NIGHTGLASS is active, they won't trust their instruments.”
Mara looked at the dead lighthouse compass hanging on the wall.
“Then we give them something older than instruments.”
She ordered every ship in range to abandon digital navigation.
Use stars.
Use magnetic compasses.
Use visual distance.
Black Tide had built a twenty-first-century weapon.
Mara defeated its first strike with nineteenth-century navigation.
The cruise ship missed the tanker by less than half a mile.
But the missile continued broadcasting.
And Eleanor delivered the final piece of bad news.
“NIGHTGLASS can only be shut down from the council chamber.”
“Where is it?”
May you like
Eleanor looked toward the black ocean.
“Washington.”
