Silence.
Cole handed Daniel a photograph.
It showed Daniel standing outside a military aircraft.
The photograph was old.
Very old.
Daniel looked at it.
"Where did you get this?"
"They left it at my gym."
Daniel's face became pale.
Cole finally understood.
"You really were someone."
Daniel folded the photograph.
"I was."
"Who?"
Daniel looked toward the horizon.
"Someone who made mistakes."
Cole shook his head.
"That's not the whole story."
"No."
"What is?"
Daniel looked at him.
"The whole story is worse."
The attack came on Friday night.
Daniel was driving home when a black SUV appeared behind him.
It stayed there for six miles.
Daniel changed speed.
The SUV followed.
He turned onto a narrow county road.
The SUV followed.
Daniel sighed.
He had spent too many years recognizing patterns like this.
He slowed.
The SUV accelerated.
Daniel suddenly turned onto a dirt road.
The SUV followed.
Two miles later, another vehicle appeared ahead.
Daniel stopped.
Four men stepped out.
None wore uniforms.
Daniel turned off his engine.
One man approached.
"Commander Mercer."
Daniel closed his eyes.
He hadn't heard the title spoken aloud in years.
"Don't call me that."
The man smiled.
"We need something from you."
"You'll get nothing."
"We thought you'd say that."
The rear door opened.
Another man stepped out.
Daniel recognized him.
Victor Kane.
Former intelligence contractor.
A man who had disappeared after a failed operation overseas.
"You look old," Victor said.
Daniel smiled.
"So do you."
Victor laughed.
"Still sarcastic."
"Still alive."
Victor's smile vanished.
"You know what I need."
"No."
"The drive."
Daniel's expression changed.
There it was.
The thing they had come for.
A data drive containing evidence from an operation years earlier.
Evidence that could destroy powerful people.
Daniel had kept it hidden.
Not for money.
Not for revenge.
For the families of men who had died because someone had lied.
Victor stepped closer.
"Give it to me."
"No."
The first man attacked.
Daniel moved.
He was no longer a retired maintenance worker.
He was the man he had buried.
The fight was fast.
Brutal.
Controlled.
Daniel avoided unnecessary strikes.
He disarmed one attacker.
Dropped another.
Used the environment against a third.
But there were too many.
Then headlights appeared.
A pickup truck came racing down the road.
Cole jumped out.
"Daniel!"
Daniel shouted:
"Stay back!"
Cole ignored him.
He charged.
For several seconds, the two men fought side by side.
The irony wasn't lost on Daniel.
A retired commander and an arrogant young fighter.
Different generations.
Different worlds.
Yet somehow moving together.
Eventually, the attackers fled.
Silence returned.
Cole was breathing heavily.
Daniel looked at him.
"Why did you come?"
Cole wiped blood from his lip.
"Because you needed help."
Daniel shook his head.
"You could have been killed."
"So could you."
Daniel looked at him.
Cole smiled.
"I guess we're even."
Daniel almost smiled.
Almost.
Then he looked toward the road.
"They'll come again."
Cole nodded.
"What do we do?"
Daniel answered:
"Prepare."
Daniel took Cole somewhere unexpected.
An abandoned warehouse outside town.
Inside was an old training room.
Mats covered the floor.
The walls were bare.
There were no trophies.
No photographs.
No advertisements.
No audience.
Cole looked around.
"You trained here?"
"Once."
"When?"
"Long ago."
Daniel stepped onto the mat.
Cole followed.