The rotor blades hammered overhead and chopped the air. The dull roar echoed throughout the cabin of the encircling Blackhawk. Below, half of the lights of Colón were in a total blackout and the rest was painted in rusted orange streetlamps. The sea beyond was a black sheet of restless ink. The jungle inland curled in shadow and hid horrors beyond imagining.

  Inside the bird, it was cold. It smelled of hydraulic fluid and gunpowder. Sawyer sat strapped to the wall bench with a helmet in his lap. Cormac sat beside him and chewed on some nicotine gum. Ashley crouched near the open door. Her eyes scanned as they passed over an urban sprawl of collapsed rooftops and blocks of long since abandoned state-funded construction projects.

  A military grade laptop sat strapped to the folding tray in the middle of the cabin, turned toward them so everyone could see. It displayed a satellite connection that blinked green. Colonel Bradford sat beside Sawyer, his weathered face lit by the sterile glow of the screen as he logged into the system and established a secure connection.

  The signal hiccupped once, then steadied.

  “There’s something we have to do,” Bradford said.

  “What now?” Sawyer asked.

  “It’s the President. Apparently, your little operation wasn’t so secret. You were found. He wants to speak with you. I’ve already briefed him on your little vampire problem.”

  “What did he say?” Ashley asked.

  “He doesn’t like it, but we’re out of time and we need more eyes and ears on Harland’s operation. I’ll let him explain the rest.”

  The feed cleared.

  President Mark Schlossberg’s face filled the screen. He was a handsome man with sharp facial features and a chestnut combover. He wasn’t standing behind a press podium or a broadcast stage, but seated in the Situation Room. His tight frame was dead serious. Beside him, aides murmured to each other over stacks of red folders. The American flag hung behind him. His expression wasn’t rehearsed. It was real.

  “Kestrel brothers,” he said. “Agent Velasquez. Colonel Bradford.”

  Sawyer nodded. “Mr. President. It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

  “Honor, Mr. President,” Cormac said.

  Bradford and Ashley remained silent.

  “I regret not speaking with you in person,” Schlossberg began. “But there have been considerable threats on my life ever since I took a hardline stance to try and unify church and state in this country. Most of the infighting doesn’t make the news cycle. Ever since I put my Catholic roots on display, I’ve seen countless demonic manifestations in the faces of staff members. I’ve been attacked and so have members of my cabinet. I’ve lost three Secret Service members this week from demonic attacks. You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve been seeing. The world is changing. We’re entering a new phase.”

  His words hit hard.

  “I’ve been briefed on your encounter in the jungle,” he continued. “And on Harland Morrow’s…abilities. He’s exactly the kind of threat we were afraid of. You know, I had dinner with your father once. Finnegan Kestrel was one of the sharpest monster hunters I’ve ever met. He’s the man who personally proved to me that we’re not alone. I nearly died that night. But that’s a story for another time.”

  Sawyer’s jaw flexed at his father’s name. Cormac glanced at him, but remained silent.

  “The situation in Panama has spiraled,” Schlossberg went on. “The globalists—BlackDiamond chief among them—have seized a golden share of the Panama Canal. Through it, they’re funneling not just weapons and drugs, but military equipment powered by energy signatures not even DARPA can replicate. We believe it’s demonic, but we can’t prove it.”

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Bradford crossed his arms. “What are your orders, sir?”

  “I’m authorizing Project Black Ledger,” said the President. “It’s a continuation of the project your father was working on for me until he passed.”

  He leaned in closer.

  “As for funding…the Senate Armed Services Committee is backing this. They’re sliding the funding under their own black book operations. There is little oversight and no public hearings. We’re going to bury this under foreign military subsidies for special forces in Central America. It’s completely clandestine.”

  Bradford nodded. “I’ll handle the suits and squares on capital hill.”

  “Thank you, Colonel. I’ll refer their questions to you. I’ve also agreed to grease Ashley’s case managers at the Agency. Shouldn’t be too difficult. The CIA will push the right buttons when they can. You’re being given full operational latitude.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Colonel Bradord replied.

  “You’re to operate covertly, to the best of your ability. You’ll be working outside all conventional channels. I need documents, devices, survivor’s accounts, anything that gives us intelligence and leverage about what BlackDiamond is really doing in Panama. Start by finding Harland Morrow. Tail him. Capture any relevant intelligence and then eliminate him.”

  Cormac let out a long breath.

  Schlossberg nodded. “This isn’t about personal vengeance necessarily, but this is about good and evil. We can’t allow the blood rituals in the jungle to service Harland any longer. If we don’t stop this, it’s going to corrupt the United States even more than it already has. We have to cut out the rot and restart. It’s the only way this country is going to survive. We’re a beacon for the world, and if we lose, it’s game over for the rest of the world.”

  A moment passed.

  Sawyer leaned forward. “What happens if we fail?”

  Schlossberg didn’t blink. “Then evil wins.” His voice softened. “You’ll probably never be known or thanked for the work you’re doing in Panama. But the world might live on in peace because of what you do. God will know. That has to be enough for now.” He looked offscreen. One of his aides whispered something urgent into his ear. He nodded once. “Your window’s closing. Colonel Bradford will coordinate. You’ll have off-book logistics, encrypted comms, and deniable support when possible. But your actions from this point on…they never happened. I have to know you’re all committed to serving the United States and its interests, God’s interests, and my interests.”

  Ashley was the first to respond. “I’m in.”

  Sawyer didn’t hesitate. “So am I.”

  Cormac cracked his neck and grinned. “I’m already packed.”

  Bradford exhaled. “Then it’s official. Project Black Ledger is a go.”

  The screen dimmed, then died.

  Wind howled through the open side of the Blackhawk. Below them, the city of Colón was a maze of shanty rooftops, dead streets, and shipping yards littered with containers. And somewhere amongst those shadows was a trail of crumbs that would lead them to Harland and his secret demonic operation.

  “All right, kids,” Bradford said. “Where do you want to go?”

  Sawyer looked to the others, who nodded.

  “Take us back to Colón,” Cormac said.

  “We’re going to find Harland Morrow,” Ashley said.

  “I’m going to shove my gun barrel down his throat and fire live rounds until he gives us the secret recipe to cure our vampirism,” Sawyer said. “We’re going to make him fix what he did to us. And then we’re going to stop him.”

  Ashley and Cormac nodded in agreement.

  Sawyer shifted in his seat, anxious at the possibility of reversing his blood lust. “We’re putting an end to the evil he’s perpetuating in Panama.”