Some graves are dug so deep into the frozen earth that you think they will stay cold forever, until someone down there finally finds a way to spark the matches again.
The heavy scent of machine oil and wet rust filled the cramped repair bay of the harbor docks, where Ethan Vance was busy replacing a cracked water pump on an old fishing boat. His large hands were covered in black grease, his mind completely focused on the simple, physical rhythm of the mechanical work. The peaceful quiet was broken by the sudden, sharp buzz of a secure handheld radio sitting on his workbench, followed immediately by the rapid, frantic voice of his sister.
"Ethan, I am sending an encrypted terrestrial transmission directly to your local handset right now," Sarah Vance said, her voice taut with an immediate
