“You found him.”
“Yes.”
“Alive.”
“Yes.”
His vision blurred.
“And nobody told us.”
The suited man folded his hands.
“At the time, his survival created an immediate security problem. His legal identity had already been exposed to hostile collection. The decision was made to relocate him under protection before contact with the returning team.”
“We thought he burned to death.”
“I know.”
Ethan stood.
The chair hit the wall behind him.
“Do you?”
The commanding officer stepped forward, but Ethan held up a hand.
“No. Let him answer. Do you know what it is to wake up for three years hearing a man shout that he’s going back for you? Do you know what it is to stand at a memorial with five names and realize the one person who vanished for the rest of us doesn’t even get a line of stone?”
The suited man’s face finally changed.
“No,” he said. “I don’t.”
Ethan breathed hard.
That honesty stopped him more effectively than any defense could have.
He looked down at the page.
“Where is he?”
“Alive.”
“Where?”
“I cannot tell you that without his consent.”
Ethan laughed bitterly.
“Still protecting him from me?”
“Protecting the life he has now.”
That sentence landed differently.
Ethan sat again.
“Does he know I’m alive?”
“Yes.”
“Does he know we thought he was dead?”
The man hesitated.
“Yes.”
Pain moved through Ethan so cleanly it almost felt like anger.
“Then why didn’t he contact us?”
The legal officer reached into the back of the folder.
“He tried once.”
She removed a sealed envelope.
Ethan’s name was written on the front.
Not typed.
Written by hand.
He knew the handwriting.
He sat perfectly still.
“When?”
“Two years ago. The message was withheld because contact authorization was denied. It was added to this review when counsel challenged that decision.”
Ethan looked at the suited man.
“You kept this too?”
“Yes.”
The man’s voice was quieter now.
