In that instant, he knew that fear would never work with her, and he didn’t have the time for pain. He needed relief from the hunt. Soon. He said, “You have a team here. I want them to stop. I have something special planned, and I can’t have them searching for me. Give me the number of your team leader. I wish to talk to him. Man-to-man. You do it, and I’ll make an accommodation that will be favorable to you.”

She said, “No.”

He said, “Your team leader is going to get the message. I can either do it on the phone, and you die with a bullet, or I can do it my way.”

Her expression as flat as a stone in a river, she said, “It looks like it’s your way.”

He nodded, actually feeling a kinship with her courage. Keeping his eyes on her he said, “Anzor, in the rucksack on the bed is a GoPro video camera. Would you mind getting it?”

Anzor rummaged around in the bag and Omar said, “I need a knife. Preferably a large one.”

63

I said, “What do you mean, you only found her cell phone?”

Knuckles said, “Just that. It’s smashed like someone stomped on it.”

“But that makes no sense. If someone were interested in what she was doing, smashing her cell phone would be the last thing they’d do. Are you sure it’s hers?”

Aaron said, “Yes. That’s exactly why it’s smashed. Shoshana did it. To protect me. To protect us.”

He tried to hide it, but the pain leaked out nonetheless. I could see his mantra of the mission comes first at the root of the ache. Shoshana had destroyed the only way we could find her in order to protect us. And now I was asking him to continue without knowing what had happened to his teammate.

I said, “Aaron, I’ve got authority to take down Rashid.” He nodded, and I felt like an enormous hypocrite after my speech on the aircraft. I hated the words coming out of my mouth. I hated the mission. I did some math in my head, running the numbers I needed. I said, “You want to abort?”

His expression said, Yes, of course I do. His mouth said, “No. I won’t sacrifice her actions. She did it to protect this mission.”

I said, “I can spare Jennifer and Retro. Jennifer’s good at finding solutions in the puzzle, and Retro’s a computer geek. They might be able to figure something out from the phone. I need everyone else for this.”

He thought about it, then said, “Thank you. I appreciate it, but no. This man may be the quickest link to her.”

I was a little disappointed in his answer, thinking back on what Shoshana had told me in the café earlier, but maybe he was right. I said, “Okay, okay. You lock down the stairwell, we tuck this guy in, and in thirty minutes you get my whole team. We’ll find her. I promise.”

He nodded, the fear still on his face, but the professionalism of his chosen path dictating his actions. He said, “Yes. Mission first. Then Shoshana.”

I despised the words. In my mind, it wasn’t an order of priority. It was what I could do right now. At least that’s what I told myself. I couldn’t quell the feeling that my doing the one was causing the death of the other.

I shook it off, looking around the small circle of Operators in the alley. They were all reflecting on Shoshana, believing she was a teammate. Jennifer said, “Pike, she’s our responsibility on this thing. Maybe we should . . .”

Her voice trailed off, but the implication was clear. I shut that down, saying, “Listen up. Forget about Shoshana for now. We’ve got about a thirty-minute window here. I need everyone’s head in the game.” I went eye to eye, stopping with Jennifer. “Everyone.”

She squinted, telling me the call was bad. Telling me I wouldn’t be doing this if it were her missing. I ignored the glare, projecting the calm leader, but truthfully, continuing with the mission made my stomach sour, because I wasn’t sure she was wrong.

I reiterated the lineup for entry then said, “Get on him quick. Lock him down. Brett, Retro, you got SSE. Once he’s down, search for media, computers, and documents. You’ve got three minutes. Knuckles, you and I will get him out. I want to walk him, but if he shows any signs that he’s going to be trouble, hit him with the drugs. Aaron, all you need to do is provide early warning if something’s going bad from the street. Jennifer, I call, you pull straight out, park right in front. Aaron gets the door, and he’s in like a bag of dog food. Jennifer and I take him to the transfer site, everyone else disappears.”

I got a nod from the team and said, “No mistakes on this. Are we good? I need to abort if we’re not.”

I focused my attention on Aaron, knowing that distractions in combat could end up exponentially bad. I needed to ensure he was focused.

Aaron said, “Don’t worry about me. I’m good.”

I wasn’t so sure about that, probably because I’d been in his shoes before. He wasn’t “good,” but I was comfortable he could fight. I went eye to eye with everyone else, seeing we were ready. I said, “Okay, time to test out these new black rifles. Retro, you got knock-knock. I’m not fucking around. You make breach, and we’re doing some damage.”

Knock-knock referred to a small, very heavy battering ram. Retro nodded, reaching back into the van and flipping up the backseat. Underneath was what looked like a sixteen-inch chopped-off telephone pole, two folding handles on top. Made of steel.

Ordinarily, we’d surreptitiously pick the lock, then slink in, working in the shadows, the whole point being the man would disappear without our ever exposing we’d been there.

Here, the target was on edge and hyperalert. We could try to pick the door and potentially get gunfire through it if he heard. With Jennifer’s report of the atmospherics, I was fairly sure that nobody would come to interfere, no matter what we did. I’d worked in some postdictator countries, and it was amazing how the old instincts came to the fore. Someone breaking in a door? Pretend you’re cooking. Not your problem. I was also positive—if we got out in time—that the police would find nothing. He wasn’t an Albanian citizen, and I was sure he’d checked in under a false name. It would be a mystery.

I glanced up and down the street, seeing people walking, but nobody close. No time like the present. I said, “Ready?”

Knuckles pulled his charging handle back a smidge, checking for the glint of a round. He let it forward and said, “Let’s get some.”

We walked past the pharmacy, just a group of guys headed to a bar in the Block, weapons held low in the gloom. Aaron opened the door, letting us flow in. I passed him and said, “Thirty minutes. That’s all you’ve lost.”

He said, “Just get the target.”

We entered, Brett in the lead, rifle held at the low ready. I pulled out my phone and initiated the Dragontooth app. It showed a circle, with one sector pulsing. We entered the stairwell, and it jumped to two. By the time we reached the top, it was at four. Brett held up at the entrance to the hallway, looking back at me. I nodded. He moved forward, passing the door and pulling security down the hallway. Retro followed, holding the battering ram. Knuckles brought up the rear, locking down the stairwell.

I moved the phone toward the door and the sectors locked, all glowing green. Jackpot.

64

I nodded at Retro, and brought my weapon up, feeling the adrenaline spike. He positioned on the right side of the door, doing a left-handed slam to stay clear of the funnel of fire. He looked at me one more time, waiting. I whispered into my earpiece. “On my call . . . Five, four, three, two, one, execute, execute, execute.”