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accident. Satellite imaging shows no signs sign of an explosion, thermal event, or natural disaster.”  Caine raised an eyebrow. “But we’re limited to above-ground imaging. We can’t get any infrared or detect anything within the facility below ground.”
    “No, you wouldn’t,” said Cruz. “The Savage Bay complex was originally a hardened military installation. It was designed to withstand a thermonuclear strike. Far too much shielding to see through.”
    “Actually,” said Caine, “we can see quite a bit when we’re in touch with the base’s main computer network.”
    “What was the last communication from Savage Bay?” asked Cruz.
    Caine drew her lips into a tight line.
    “My daughter, Dominique Caine, is the project manager. Before Savage Bay went silent, I received one last message from Dominique. It was a single sentence: We’ve been deceived . Then nothing. That was four hours ago.”
    Cruz was baffled.
    “Our working hypothesis right now is that there has been an attack of some kind,” said Caine. “A hostile incursion. That’s the only explanation that makes any sense at this point.”
    Cruz nodded.
    “I’m sending in an armed tactical team,” said Caine. “Hawkeye and Titan Six deploy in three hours. We need you here on the Alamiranta in the Ops Center. We will be the ‘eyes in the sky’ for the insertion team. You and other members of our Ops team are going to help guide Titan Six through the facility.”
    “Of course,” said Cruz, trying to ignore the cold lump in her stomach. “Whatever you need.”
    THE GALLERY, ABOARD THE ALAMIRANTA
     
    Caine took Hawkeye aside for a private discussion. Cruz waited near the center of the Gallery, admiring a Mayan codex in a climate-controlled display case while Caine and Hawkeye took a walk through rows of ancient texts and leatherbound folios arrayed on mahogany shelves.
    “Inch is still on injured reserve, yes?” said Caine, referring to the Titan Six team member who was known by the call sign Inch Deep. Hawkeye had given him the unusual moniker several years ago. Inch had an astounding range of superficial interests, constantly reading and watching hours of the Discovery and History Channels, picking up tidbits of knowledge on a huge variety of topics. Hawkeye once remarked that Inch was “a mile wide, but only an inch deep.”  The nickname had stuck.
    “He is,” said Hawkeye. “At least another three months of physical therapy before Inch is fit to resume active duty.”
    Inch had torn a meniscus and broken a collar bone during Titan Six’s last operation, the same mission that had put Touchdown in a wheelchair.
    “Who are you selecting for the insertion team?” asked Caine.
    “Tank, of course. Gator. And Shooter. That leaves one slot open.”
    “I’d like you to consider adding Pyro to the squad,” said Caine. “I’ve reviewed his file. I think he’s ready for the major leagues. All personnel decisions are yours to make, of course, but I think he’s a solid choice. And with Inch out of commission, you need someone with an explosives and munitions background to take his place on the insertion team.”
    Pyro and nine other operatives trained regularly with Titan Six. Like the B-team of a sports franchise, they waited on the bench until an injury or retirement opened up a spot on the team.
    “I’m sure the fact that Pyro’s father is the Deputy Prime Minster of Japan didn’t hurt his chances of catching your eye,” said Hawkeye.
    “It’s always nice to have friends in high places,” said Caine. “But Pyro’s qualifications stand on their own.”
    “I agree. He’s the perfect choice.”
    Caine smiled. “Excellent. I’ll send word for Pyro to meet you at the Armory in five minutes. He’s in for a few surprises.”
    Hawkeye returned the smile. While many of Titan Global’s employees suspected that members of Titan Six were given access to advanced technology and physical enhancements, no one understood just how