Back at CIA headquarters, Director Sarah Webb was running through the corridors like her life depended on it—because the lives of her agents did. She was a composed woman, usually unflappable, but right now her heart was hammering in her chest. The Echelon Protocol. Of all the classified programs she'd been read into when she took this position, that one had been emphasized with particular intensity. A single PowerPoint slide, shown to her by the previous director: PERSEUS JACKSON - DO NOT DETAIN UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES IF DETAINED: PROTOCOL ECHELON ACTIVATES AUTOMATICALLY CONSEQUENCES: LETHAL FORCE AUTHORIZED AGAINST DETAINING PERSONNEL She'd asked why they didn't just distribute that information to all agents. The answer had been classification levels and need-to-know. Perseus's existence, his true nature, the things he'd done for the country—it was all so far above top secret that only directors and a select few senior officials knew the full story.  It had seemed like a manageable risk at the time. Now, sprinting down the hallway toward Interrogation Room 227, she realized how catastrophically wrong that assumption had been. She burst through the door. Inside, Agent Afferty was sitting across from Perseus, who remained handcuffed to the table. Chen was there too, along with another agent taking notes. They all looked up in surprise as their director entered, wild-eyed and out of breath. "Mr. Jackson," Director Webb said, forcing her voice to remain calm and professional despite her racing pulse. "On behalf of the Central Intelligence Agency, I want to apologize for this misunderstanding. We're releasing you immediately. No charges, no record of this arrest. No harm, no foul." Perseus looked at her with those ancient, knowing eyes. He didn't smile, but there was something in his expression—pity, maybe, or just weariness. "You know I activated the program, so you already know that your fate is sealed." Director Webb felt ice in her veins. He was right. Once activated, the Echelon Protocol couldn't be stopped. It didn't matter if they released him. Ghost Ops was already coming. "Sir, what is going on?" Agent Afferty asked, standing up from his chair. He looked between his director and the prisoner, confused by the sudden change in atmosphere. Director Webb turned to him, and all the composure she'd maintained throughout her career evaporated. "YOU FUCKING MORONS! YOU DON'T HAVE A CLUE ABOUT THIS GUY, DO YOU?!" Afferty took a step back, shocked. He'd never heard the director raise her voice, let alone curse. "No, sir. Ma'am. Please explain the situation." Director Webb took a shaky breath, trying to organize her thoughts. "This goddamn man —" she gestured at Perseus, "—has saved the United States government more times than you can count. Black ops missions, intelligence gathering, military actions that never made it into any official record. He's been doing it for longer than this agency has existed. Longer than this country has existed." "Ma'am, I don't understand—" "Because of his service, because of what he is and what he's done, the highest levels of government created a special protocol. They call it Echelon. If any federal law enforcement or intelligence organization on this fucking planet arrests him, or even attempts to arrest him, the protocol activates automatically. It immediately alerts a specialized black operations unit. Their only mission—their ONLY mission—is to respond to the location where he's being held." Chen had gone pale. "What... what do they do?" "They extract him. And everyone involved in his detention..." Director Webb couldn't finish the sentence. "They kill them," Perseus said quietly from his seat. "Not out of malice. It's just protocol. The thinking is that anyone who detains me despite all the warnings, all the safeguards, either doesn't have proper security clearance—which is a liability—or is acting with hostile intent. Either way, the response is the same." "But we didn't know!" Afferty protested. "Nobody told us there was a—" "That's the problem with compartmentalization," Perseus said. He'd been through this before, clearly. His voice had the tired quality of someone explaining the same thing for the hundredth time. "The information is so classified that field agents never get it. Only directors and senior officials. It's supposed to prevent leaks, but it creates situations like this." Director Webb was staring at the wall, doing calculations in her head. "How long ago did you make the call?" "Seventeen minutes." "Fuck. They're probably already here." As if on cue, there was a commotion in the hallway outside. Not an explosion—Ghost Ops didn't need to make dramatic entrances. They simply walked through the front door of the CIA headquarters building with the kind of authority that made security personnel step aside. The Ghost Ops team consisted of twelve operators, all dressed in black tactical gear with full face coverings. Only their eyes were visible. They moved with absolute precision, their weapons ready but not pointed at anyone specifically. They didn't need to announce themselves—their presence did that. The leader of the team, identifiable only by the white stripe on his shoulder, approached the security desk in the lobby. The CIA security guard, a twenty-year veteran, found himself frozen in place. "Perseus Jackson. Where?" the operator asked. His voice was electronically modulated, stripped of identifying characteristics. The security guard looked at his screen, then back at the operator. "I... I need to verify your credentials." "No, you don't." The operator placed a badge on the desk. It was black with a single silver symbol—an eye inside a triangle. The security guard felt his stomach drop. He'd heard rumors about that badge. Everyone in the intelligence community had. "Second floor. Interrogation room 227," the guard said quietly. "Evacuate this floor and the second floor. You have two minutes." The team moved past security and into the building proper. They didn't run—there was no need. They knew exactly where they were going, and they knew nobody would try to stop them.  In Interrogation Room 227, the door opened. The Ghost Ops leader entered, followed by two other operators. Director Webb, Agent Afferty, Chen, and the note-taking agent all instinctively moved back against the wall. "Who's the director of this facility?" the modulated voice asked.  "That would be me," Director Webb said, her voice steadier than she felt. "I assume you understand the consequences of the actions taken here." It wasn't a question. "Yes. I've been briefed on the Echelon Protocol." "Then you understand your position. You were responsible for the agents who detained him. You failed to ensure they were properly briefed despite having access to that information. Is the suspect currently secured?" "He's in this room, as you can see." The operator moved to Perseus and produced a key for the handcuffs. "Mr. Jackson, you're free to go. Please come with us." Perseus stood, rubbing his wrists where the cuffs had been. He looked at Agent Afferty, and there was genuine regret in his eyes. "You were just doing your job. I'm sorry it ended this way." Then he walked out with the Ghost Ops team, leaving the CIA personnel in stunned silence. The Ghost Ops leader paused at the door. "Director Webb, you will be contacted within twenty-four hours regarding disciplinary proceedings. As the superior officer, you bear responsibility for this incident. You'll likely face court-martial or administrative punishment. That decision will be made by the Secretary of Defense and the President." "I understand." "The agents who directly participated in the detention—" the operator looked at Afferty, Chen, and the third agent, "—you will be placed on administrative leave pending investigation. You may face criminal charges depending on how much information you had access to and chose to ignore." "We didn't know!" Afferty said desperately. "Nobody told us about any protocol!" The operator regarded him silently for a moment. "That will be taken into consideration. However, ignorance is not a complete defense when lives are at stake. This isn't the first time this has happened, and it won't be the last. The system is flawed, but it exists for a reason. You'll have the opportunity to make your case." He turned to leave, then paused again. "One more thing. We don't kill CIA personnel. Despite the protocol's reputation, we're not executioners. You'll be reprimanded, possibly prosecuted, maybe imprisoned. But you won't die. That's more mercy than most people in your position receive. Consider yourselves fortunate that this particular activation occurred on US soil with US personnel. If you'd done this overseas, or if foreign intelligence had been involved..." He let the implication hang. Then the Ghost Ops team was gone, escorting Perseus out of the building.

Agent Afferty collapsed into a chair, his hands shaking. His career was over. Possibly his freedom too. All because he'd done his job—arrested someone they had legitimate reason to believe was an international assassin.  Director Webb remained standing, staring at the empty doorway. She was thinking about the hearing she'd face, the questions she'd have to answer. Why hadn't she distributed the information more widely? Why had she trusted the compartmentalization system that had failed so spectacularly? Chen just sat there, replaying the briefing in his head. All that research, all that evidence linking Perseus to La Cebra. Had they been wrong? Or had they been right, and it simply didn't matter because Perseus was too valuable to touch? "Was he actually La Cebra?" Afferty asked quietly. Nobody answered. Nobody knew. And in the end, it didn't matter. Perseus Jackson was untouchable. The whole world knew it—except the people who needed to know it most