The animals tore out of their makeshift doghouse and barreled down on Harvath with amazing speed. His vision narrowed. All he could see were their contorted, hideous faces with their grisly teeth and pitch-black eyes.

In an instant, they were airborne-their mouths wide open, ready to tear at his flesh. Harvath had time neither to draw his weapon nor to get out of the way. His only reaction was one of pure instinct. He raised both his arms to protect his face.

There was the sound of two quick pops as the animals slammed into Harvath and knocked him back against the wall. Quickly, he spun away from them, surprised to have his arms free.

Harvath readied for the dogs to launch their next assault and then realized it wouldn’t be coming. He looked up and saw Ron Parker straddling the wall, his silenced pistol clasped in both hands. His eyes quickly scanned the garden for any other threats. Seeing none, he hopped down and joined Harvath.

“Tom Morgan sends his apologies,” said Parker, as he made sure the animals were dead. “He never noticed the dogs.”

Harvath looked down at the two bodies on the ground. The animals were absolutely vile. They appeared to be some sort of pit bull-Doberman cross that had gone horribly wrong. They were revolting to look at. All the same, Harvath regretted having to kill them. He loved dogs.

But there was no question that these boys would have torn him apart. He was lucky Ron Parker was such an exceptional shot.

“Thank you,” said Harvath as he pulled his weapon.

“That’s one you owe me,” replied Parker as Finney came over the wall and landed just a few feet away.

“Those are the ugliest dogs I’ve ever seen,” said Finney as he grabbed them by their hind legs and pulled them toward the corrugated metal doghouse.

While Finney hid the carcasses, Parker scanned the adjacent windows for any sign they’d been discovered, and Harvath worked the locks on Palmera’s back door.

When he had the door open, he signaled Finney and Parker and they slipped inside behind him.

Just as the Troll had said, Palmera didn’t have an alarm system. But somehow the Troll had overlooked the dogs. Harvath made a note to take it up with him later.

With their weapons drawn, the men quickly swept through the house, clearing each room as they went. There was no sign of Palmera or anyone else. That gave Harvath a few extra minutes to look for something.

With Finney watching the front door and Parker the back, Harvath started searching. He began with the downstairs closets, and when those turned up empty, he headed upstairs.

He looked through all the closets, under the bed, and was pulling up a chair to gain access to a hidden attic space when Finney called for him to come back down.

“What’s up?” whispered Harvath from the top of the stairs.

Finney tapped his ear bud. “Morgan’s got a car inbound that matches the description we’ve got for Palmera.”

“How long?”

“Forty-five seconds, tops,” replied Finney. “We need to get in place.”

Harvath glanced over his shoulder toward the bedroom where he’d found the tiny attic space and decided it could wait.

Harvath was halfway down the stairs when he heard his friend say, “Guys, we’ve got a little problem here.”

Harvath hurried down the rest of the stairs and joined Finney near the windows at the front of the house. He was right. They did have a problem. Ronaldo Palmera wasn’t alone.

Palmera climbed out of his Toyota Land Cruiser accompanied by two additional men-neither of whom looked Mexican.

The pair were both just a hair shorter than the six-foot-tall Palmera, and had obviously been spending a lot of time out of doors. Their skin had been darkened by the sun, and while they might have been able to pass for South Americans with some people, their facial features immediately gave them away to Harvath. These two were Arabs; most likely connected to one of Palmera’s training camps.

If that was true, they posed a very serious threat. Harvath had to think fast.

One of the most popular covert methods of subduing a dangerous suspect was to hand him a ticket for a five-second ride via a Taser X26. When the electricity began coursing through the subject’s body, his neuromuscular system was impaired and he collapsed to the ground. Some screamed, but most were so locked up they just fell to the ground where their hands and feet could be Flexicuffed and a strip of duct tape could be placed across their mouth.

That was how a Taser was used against a single suspect. Three men was something else entirely.

Harvath checked the secondary cartridge holder below the Taser’s handgrip. He wasn’t surprised to find it empty. The weapon had probably been used before it had made its way into his hands. For what, he didn’t want to know.

The absence of a secondary cartridge left Harvath and his team with very few options.

Finney and Parker would do what it took to get the job done. They weren’t afraid of getting their hands dirty, but they couldn’t just pop Palmera’s buddies because they looked Arab. Though they probably were a couple of dirt bags involved in some very bad things, there were still some things Harvath wouldn’t do, and killing men who hadn’t given him a reason was one of them.

That said, when it came time to do the deed, Harvath didn’t often need a lot of convincing. He could tell just by looking at most people what kind of men or women they were. Maybe it was his Secret Service training. Maybe it was the years he’d spent in dangerous professions, but the bottom line was that having killed on numerous occasions, he recognized that ability in others instantly-the hard, implacable face, the ever-watchful eyes, it was always there. A person familiar with killing wore it like a hundred-dollar haircut-it was unmistakable.

Harvath had no doubt that Palmera and his companions were going to be trouble. The trick was to take them down before any of them could react. Harvath, Finney, and Parker had the element of surprise on their side. The only question was, with this sudden addition of two new players, could they still use it to their advantage? They didn’t have much choice. They had to.

Harvath indicated to Finney and Parker what he wanted them to do, and the men took their places.

With his hand wrapped around the Taser, he prayed his plan would work.

From his vantage point at the windows, Finney watched as the men walked up the sidewalk. Suddenly, he exclaimed, “Oh, shit!”

Harvath raced from his hiding place just in time to see Palmera and his accomplices turn down the gangway and head toward the rear of the building.

The entire plan had been predicated on their coming through the front door. Now they were going to come in through the back, and to do that, they were going to have to come through the garden. The moment the dogs didn’t respond to their entry, Palmera would know something was up.

The only thing Harvath hated more than coming up with a hastily formed plan was coming up with a second hastily formed plan because the first one tanked. Each time they changed their tack the odds were more heavily stacked against them.

Even so, Harvath had been trained to adapt and overcome-to think quickly on his feet and to succeed no matter what the odds. The plan that now sprang to his mind was pure military instinct born from years of practice.

Since Parker was the best shooter in their group, he got the hardest job. Leaving him at the front door, Harvath and Finney raced toward the back of the house.

The back door with its multiple deadbolts was still open, and they raced through it and into the garden. They took their places just as Palmera slid his key into the heavy iron lock of the garden door.