Chapter 3 - THE DEAD MAN WITH ETHAN’S TEETH
Denver Metropolitan Police sealed Frank Walker’s property shortly before midnight.
Ethan never went there.
Mason refused to let him.
For once, Ethan listened.
Not because he trusted Mason completely.
Because Jake remained at the hospital.
Everything else could burn.
His son came first.
Doctors confirmed Jake had no internal bleeding, but he had a fractured wrist, a concussion, facial bruising, and injuries consistent with prolonged restraint.
The words prolonged restraint stayed in Ethan’s mind.
Frank hadn’t simply lost his temper.
They had held Jake down long enough to search him.
Long enough to threaten him.
Long enough for Christine to watch.
Ethan sat beside Jake until the boy finally slept.
Christine remained across the room.
They did not speak.
At 1:17 a.m., Mason arrived.
He was sixty now, broad-shouldered despite age, gray hair trimmed close, wearing a dark jacket over a plain shirt.
Christine watched him enter.
Mason stopped when he saw her.
Recognition moved across his face too quickly to hide.
Christine stood.
“You.”
Ethan looked between them.
“You know each other.”
Christine stepped backward.
Mason sighed.
“This keeps getting better.”
“When?”
Christine answered first.
“Site Twelve.”
Ethan’s eyes hardened.
Mason shut the door.
“I never saw her there.”
Christine laughed bitterly.
“You were the man in the green uniform.”
Mason’s expression changed.
Ethan stood.
“What green uniform?”
Christine pointed.
“He came to our house.”
Mason rubbed his jaw.
“Ethan.”
“You have five seconds.”
“I was investigating Frank.”
“In 2004?”
“Yes.”
“You told me you were commanding my unit in Afghanistan.”
“I was.”
“That’s physically inconvenient.”
“I flew back.”
“Why?”
Mason looked at sleeping Jake.
Then he spoke quietly.
“Because you disappeared.”
Ethan said nothing.
Mason removed a folder.
Inside were copies of military records.
“Your helicopter never crashed.”
Ethan stared at the page.
“You were removed from theater under a classified medical order signed by a program called LANTERN.”
“That mean anything to you?”
“No.”
“It shouldn’t. Officially it never existed.”
Christine whispered, “Dad used that word.”
Both men looked at her.
“When?”
“During phone calls.”
Mason opened another page.
“LANTERN was designed after 9/11. Behavioral interrogation, memory disruption, identity reconstruction.”
Christine covered her mouth.
Ethan said, “Human experimentation.”
Mason didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
“Why me?”
“You recovered something in Afghanistan.”
“What?”
“We never found out.”
“You were my commander.”
“And one morning you vanished from a secured base.”
Mason’s voice tightened.
“I spent six months looking for you.”
Ethan looked at the folder.
“Then why do I remember you visiting me in Germany?”
“Because I did.”
“After Site Twelve?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know?”
“No. I thought you’d been recovered from insurgent custody.”
Ethan laughed coldly.
“Convenient.”
Mason accepted the accusation.
“Maybe too convenient.”
He removed a photograph.
A burned vehicle.
Four bodies.
“Three weeks after you returned, everyone assigned to investigate your disappearance died.”
Ethan looked closer.
“Everyone?”
“Except me.”
Christine whispered, “Why?”
Mason’s mouth tightened.
“I wasn’t supposed to survive.”
Ethan looked at him.
“And the body in the trunk?”
Mason sat.
“That’s complicated.”
“Make it simple.”
“The body is approximately your age. Male. Similar height. Similar bone structure.”
“And my teeth?”
“Dental implants.”
Ethan frowned.
“The corpse’s entire dental profile was reconstructed to match yours.”
Christine sat slowly.
“Why?”
Mason said, “To establish that Ethan Walker is dead.”
“I’m standing here.”
“Legally, maybe not for long.”
Mason slid another document across the table.
It was a death certificate.
Issued that morning.
Name: Ethan Jonathan Walker.
Cause: Pending.
Christine whispered, “This can’t be real.”
Mason said, “It’s in federal systems.”
Ethan stared at his own death certificate.
“Who issued it?”
“That’s where things get interesting.”
He pointed toward the authorization code.
Ethan recognized nothing.
Christine did.
Her hands began shaking.
“That number.”
“What?”
“My father kept it written inside his desk.”
Mason looked at her.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Mason leaned back.
“Frank wasn’t just a contractor.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Mason’s voice hardened.
“You don’t.”
He pulled another photograph from the folder.
Frank Walker stood beside five men.
One was much younger Daniel Mason.
One was Ethan.
Christine whispered, “Dad knew you both.”
Mason said nothing.
Ethan pointed toward another figure.
“Who is that?”
The photograph showed a tall man with silver hair.
His face had been partially damaged by fire.
Mason answered reluctantly.
“Dr. Adrian Vale.”
Christine’s breath caught.
Ethan noticed.
“You know him too.”
She nodded slowly.
“He came to the house.”
“When?”
“While you were in the basement.”
Mason closed his eyes.
Ethan stepped toward him.
“You knew that name.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Frank.”
“I knew Adrian Vale.”
“Who is he?”
Mason’s answer came quietly.
“The architect of LANTERN.”
Ethan’s encrypted phone buzzed.
A security alert appeared.
JAKE WALKER MEDICAL RECORD ACCESSED.
Ethan looked toward his son.
“By whom?”
Mason checked his device.
His face changed.
“What?”
“Someone inside the hospital.”
Ethan moved instantly.
He opened the door.
Two nurses were walking past.
A janitor pushed a cart.
A doctor entered the elevator.
Then Ethan saw a man wearing blue hospital scrubs at the far end of the corridor.
The man looked directly at him.
Turned.
Ran.
Ethan sprinted.
The stranger slammed through a stairwell door.
Ethan followed.
Three flights down, Ethan caught him.
He drove the man against the wall.
“Who sent you?”
The stranger smiled through bloodied teeth.
“You really don’t remember.”
Ethan tightened his grip.
“Remember what?”
The man looked almost sympathetic.
“Jake isn’t the first boy Frank used against you.”
Ethan froze.
That half-second was enough.
The stranger bit down.
His body convulsed.
Foam filled his mouth.
Ethan lowered him to the floor.
Dead.
Mason arrived seconds later.
“What happened?”
Ethan stared at the corpse.
“He said Jake wasn’t the first boy.”
Mason went pale.
Ethan saw it.
“You know what he meant.”
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
Mason looked away.
Ethan grabbed him.
“What boy?”
Mason finally spoke.
“There was a child at Site Twelve.”
Ethan released him.
“What child?”
May you like
Mason’s voice became barely audible.
“A boy you believed was your son.”
