Beneath the photograph was a headline about a military commendation following a hostage rescue in Eastern Europe.
Thomas closed the laptop.
He couldn't breathe.
Not because the article existed.
Because of the man standing beside him.
Calvin Ross.
Twenty-seven years earlier, Ross had disappeared.
Officially, he was presumed dead.
Thomas knew that wasn't true.
At eleven that morning, somebody knocked on his front door.
Three knocks.
Pause.
Two knocks.
Thomas froze.
Nobody in his current life knocked like that.
He walked toward the door.
Looked through the peephole.
An older man stood on the porch.
Thomas opened it.
Nathan Briggs stepped inside.
Neither spoke for several seconds.
Finally Nathan said, "You look terrible."
"You look old."
"I am old."
"So am I."
Briggs smiled.
Thomas didn't.
"You shouldn't have said my name."
"I know."
"You promised."
"I know."
Thomas walked toward the kitchen.
Nathan followed.
"I didn't expect—"
"You never do."
"Tom."
Thomas turned.
"You think I disappeared because I wanted a quiet retirement?"
Briggs looked down.
"No."
"Then don't make me explain it to my family because you got emotional in a gym."
Nathan took the hit.
He deserved it.
Thomas poured coffee.
Didn't offer any.
Briggs sat at the table.
"Someone else saw the video."
Thomas stopped.
He already knew.
"Who?"
"Calvin."
The room changed.
Thomas slowly placed the coffee pot down.
"He's alive?"
Nathan looked at him.
"You knew he was."
Thomas said nothing.
Briggs leaned forward.
"I got a message at four this morning."
"From where?"
"Encrypted account."
"And you know it was him?"
"He used the phrase."
Thomas stared.
"What phrase?"
Nathan didn't need to say it.
But he did.
"Last boat leaves empty."
Thomas sat down.
Twenty-seven years vanished.
Suddenly he was thirty-five again.
Cold rain.
Mud.
A burning warehouse near the coast.
Men shouting over radios.
One helicopter circling too far away.
Calvin Ross bleeding from the side.
Thomas gripping his vest.
"Move!"
"I can't."
"You can."
"Tom."
"Get up!"
Then Calvin had said it.
Last boat leaves empty.
A phrase from training.
It meant nobody stayed behind.
A joke when they were young.
Not a joke that night.
Thomas looked at Briggs.
"What did the message say?"
Nathan reached into his jacket.
Thomas shook his head.
"Don't."
"It's printed."
"I said don't."
Nathan stopped.
Thomas rubbed both hands over his face.