CHAPTER 4: The Target on Their Backs
The rain outside turned into a torrential downpour. The diner was locked down. Neon 'Closed' sign flickering in the window. Inside, Arthur sat at Booth Seven. But this time, he wasn't alone. Rex sat across from him. The biker gang had been disarmed, quietly sitting in the corner booths under the watchful eyes of the suited agents.
Arthur placed a weathered, classified file on the table. "The Silver Hawks weren't just soldiers," Arthur explained, pushing his black coffee aside. "We were intelligence. We intercepted a global syndicate dealing in weapons that shouldn't exist. David found their ledger. The names of every corrupt official in the country." Rex stared at the file. "He hid the ledger," Arthur continued. "They tortured him for it. But he never broke. They killed him, and they spent the next forty years looking for the ledger."
Rex swallowed hard. "And the patch?" Arthur reached across the table and unpinned the silver hawk from Rex’s collar. He turned it over. With a sharp twist, the back of the metal hawk popped open. Inside was a micro-SD card. Tiny. Ancient by today's standards, but perfectly intact.
Rex gasped. "I’ve worn that for ten years. My mom gave it to me on her deathbed." "She didn't know what was inside," Arthur said. "She only knew it was the last piece of your father." Arthur looked at the card. Forty years of grief. Forty years of hiding. "I retired. I went off the grid. I sat in this diner every Tuesday because it was the last place I ever had lunch with him." Arthur looked up, tears finally glistening in his steely eyes. "I thought I lost everything. I didn't know he left a son."
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Suddenly, Agent Vance tapped his earpiece. His face turned completely white. "General," Vance interrupted, his voice tight. "The scrub was too late." Arthur stood up. "Explain." "One of the bikers live-streamed the altercation. It was up for three minutes before we killed the signal. Facial recognition flagged you. Chatter is lighting up the dark web."
Before Arthur could give an order, the diner's front windows shattered. Not from a rock. From a high-caliber sniper round. The coffee mug on Arthur’s table exploded. "Get down!" Rex screamed, tackling the old man to the floor. The reunion was over. The ghosts of the past had finally found them.
