“Miss Parker, Madison, what happened today doesn't change who you choose to be going forward.” Madison stood up from the ledge, her movement smooth and controlled despite the height and the potential danger.
“Doesn't it? Your team knows who I really am now. Base security knows. Soon everyone will know.”
“My cover is blown. My quiet life is over. And I'm back to being what I was trained to be.”
“You have choices,” Morrison insisted, standing as well, but careful not to make any sudden movements. “You can rebuild. Start over somewhere else. Find a new kind of peace.”
“Can I?” Madison asked. And there was something in her voice that made Morrison's tactical instincts scream warnings.
“Or is this just the universe telling me that some people don't get to retire from what they really are?” Before Morrison could respond, his radio crackled with an emergency transmission.
“All units, we have an unscheduled helicopter approaching the base. Military aircraft, no flight plan. Requesting immediate landing and priority handling for a passenger.” Morrison keyed his radio.
“Control, this is Morrison. What kind of passenger?”
“Sir, the helicopter is requesting permission to transport a CIA liaison officer who says he needs to speak with Angel of Death immediately. He says it's a matter of national security.” Madison and Morrison stared at each other, both understanding the implications immediately. Madison's past wasn't just catching up with her. It was arriving via military helicopter with official authority behind it.
“They found me,” Madison said quietly. “I should have known I couldn't stay hidden forever.” The helicopter appeared on the horizon moments later, a sleek military transport that approached the base with the purposeful directness of an official mission. As it circled for landing, Madison made a decision that would change everything.
“Commander, I need you to do something for me,” she said, her voice taking on the crisp authority of someone accustomed to giving orders in life-and-death situations. “What do you need?” Madison reached into her pocket and withdrew a small envelope, sealed and unmarked.
“If something happens to me, if I don't come back from whatever this is, I need you to mail this letter. The address is inside.” Morrison accepted the envelope, noting the weight and the careful way Madison handled it.
“What's in it?” “The truth,” Madison replied simply.
“About what happened to my team, about why I'm really here, and about what I've learned in the 3 years since I supposedly died.” The helicopter touched down on the base landing pad, its rotors creating a whirlwind of dust and noise. Through the windows, they could see figures in dark suits preparing to disembark. “Madison,” Morrison said urgently, “you don't have to go with them. You've served your country enough. You've given enough.”
Madison looked at him with something that might have been gratitude or might have been sadness. “Commander, some people never really leave the battlefield. They just change positions.” She started walking toward the lighthouse stairs, then paused and looked back.