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  “Good job tonight, Joe.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Feel good to be out of your cage?” Wilson finally smiled.

  “A little,” Hayden said. “Still got a chain on my ankle, though.”

  “Won’t be much longer at the rate we’re going. We’ll talk again in twenty-four hours.”

  Wilson ended the video connection and sighed as the screen returned to the desktop view.

  He made notes on the conversation for his meeting with Fisher in the morning. He looked at the cot he’d put in the corner. It was an army cot with a canvas bed and steel frame. The hell with it. He was going home to sleep in his own bed. He grabbed his keys and jacket and left his office. He didn’t bother to turn off the light.

  4

  Escaping the United States had not been hard.

  Thanks to her father’s connections, of course. Sila Kaymak landed the helicopter 500 miles from the Blue Ridge black site. They touched down at a small executive airport. Her father had arranged for one of his business jets to meet them at a private hangar. Tanya hustled her men aboard the Avro Business Jet, and they relaxed as the jet took off.

  Destination: Paris.

  The jet had all the comforts for a long trip. Tanya’s father had gutted most of the seats out of the cabin to divide the plane into three sections. One for sitting, one for entertainment, and another for dining. The jet was also equipped with a lavatory and shower, which Omar made use of immediately.

  All three had “go bags” prepared well in advance. Each bag contained clothes, personal items and pre-stamped passports in their cover identities. Each passport had proper US exit stamps so customs in Paris would ask no questions. They were traveling as executives with her father’s company. There would be no questions asked but the routine ones.

  Tanya had worked for her father long enough to know how to deal with airport routines. All Omar and Sila had to do was follow her lead and keep quiet unless spoken to.

  Presently they touched down at Orly Airport in Paris and met no resistance. Sila Kaymak drove the rental to their hotel. Tanya Jafari didn’t relax until she double locked the hotel room door. They were staying at the Mercure Paris Tour Eiffel Pont Mirabeau. A nice place with a long name but close to the Seine, which would be important for them later, and the Eiffel Tower should she get the urge to go look. Right now, the tower didn’t interest her. Omar turned on the lights.

  “I’m going to keep the drapes closed,” he said.

  “Perfect,” she said, and began to undress. She kicked off her jeans and pulled off her Tee-shirt. Her pale white skin contrasted with his darker shade. Reaching back to unhook her bra, she frowned at Omar.

  “Why are you standing there like a dope?”

  “Tanya—”

  She dropped her bra and let him have a look at her. Joy turned to disappointment.

  “What is it, Omar?”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  She went to him and undid his belt buckle. “Of course, you can.”

  She felt his breath on her as she pushed his pants down, squatting in front of him. She told him to step out of the jeans. He did so reluctantly. She looked up at him. “Why are you behaving like a man about to be shot?”

  “Tanya—”

  She stood and leaned into his face. “Hey! We haven’t been together—”

  “In a long time, Tanya. I know.”

  “So, come on.” She tugged at his shirt. “Throw me on the bed and ravage me.”

  He took hold of her wrists. Her eyes widened.

  “Don’t you want me?”

  “Yes. But I need time.”

  “What did they do to you, honey?”

  “Put me in a cage.”

  “You busted out! There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  He moved past her to the bed, pulled down the covers, and finally removed his shirt. He dropped his boxers on top of her jeans. She smiled and came to him, wrapping her arms around his warm torso. His chest hair felt good against her bare skin.

  “I still have something on,” she said, nudging him. She felt his thumbs hook into the waistband of her panties and then they were on the floor too.

  But he wasn’t responding.

  “Omar?”

  “Let’s get in bed,” he said. “I can’t remember the last time I slept in a real bed. We can hold each other. It’s all I can do right now.”

  Her face softened. “All right.” She slid onto the bed on her hands and knees, offering another view she assumed he examined with relish. Rolling onto her back, she gestured for him to join her.

  He pulled the covers up, turned on his side, and pulled her close. She sighed and rested her head under his neck. She felt warm all over, partly from his body heat, the rest from desire now agonizingly frustrated.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Just hold me,” she said.

  It didn’t take long for him to doze off. He snored quietly. She didn’t feel tired but fell asleep too. Their first time together since his capture hadn’t gone the way she planned, but at least he was there, in her arms, and alive.

  Twenty-four hours later, the pair lay half asleep in bed, entwined in each other, and Tanya glanced with lazy eyes at the nightstand clock.

  “It’s past noon,” she said.

  Omar mumbled into her neck. His body still felt hot against hers and she didn’t want to let go. All the tension of the last few days had faded. She felt normal again.

  “We missed breakfast.”

  He moved a hand along her bare leg, reaching between her thighs.

  “Mmmmmm,” she said.

  “I can do one or two things,” he said.

  She didn’t argue. Her body tingled as she let him probe inside her. She gasped as waves of pleasure rolled over her and squeezed him tight. She had gone without him for too long. She wasn’t going to cut their time short unless she had to.

  They didn’t get out of bed until three in the afternoon. Showered and dressed, the drapes still closed, they ordered lunch from room service. Grilled chicken with rice and salad and a pitcher of ice water. Tanya checked in with Sila Kaymak, who was in his room two floors down. All was well. All on schedule.

  Omar ate fast.

  “Slow down,” she told him.

  “You wouldn’t believe what they tried to make me live on,” he said. “Maybe one meal every other day. The rest of the time they forced Ensure down my throat.”

  “A protein drink?”

  “Their idea of torture.”

  “No wonder you lost so much weight.”

  He scoffed. “Don’t remind me.” He gestured at his plate. “I may need more after this. I’m almost useless.”

  “Not useless at all. Not the way you blasted out of there.”

  He shook his head. “Pure desperation.”

  “It comes in handy sometimes.”

  He nodded and went back to eating.

  “What’s next?” he said.

  “The island,” she said. “We’ll stay there while Operation Triangle takes place.”

  He frowned. “Is it safe?”

  “It will be. For a while.” She looked sad. “Once the strike takes place, the Americans will scorch the earth to find us.”

  He stopped eating again. “Why did you come for me?”

  “I need you.”

  “For what?”

  “I need you with me, Omar. I don’t want to be alone. I can’t do this without you.”

  He nodded.

  “Would you rather I left you there?”

  “No.” He ate some more.

  “I admire how you held out,” she said. “They didn’t break you.” She raised an eyebrow. “Did they?”

  He shook his head. “I kept thinking of you. You helped me survive.”

  She smiled and ate some more.

  Omar wiped his mouth and sipped ice water. He set down the glass. “How much did you tell the Americans about the new mission?”

  Omar didn’t know an
ything about Operation Triangle. Tanya and the IU leadership planned the mission while he was in custody.

  She said, “Only the name.”

  “Are you sure—”

  “We aren’t using our people, Omar.”

  “Then who are we using?”

  “It’s brilliant,” she said. “We’ve hired mercenaries, Omar. White men.”

  “Infidels?”

  “Who are being well-paid to carry out a mission. We found cutthroats who have no loyalty to the United States whatsoever. They share more of our hated for the west than you realize.”

  “What purpose does this serve?”

  “Think it over, Omar. The Americans will break their necks looking for leads. They’ll harass our people, take prisoners, ask hundreds of questions. They won’t find any answers.”

  “Because we’re using white men.”

  “Exactly. The CIA will chase their tail, miss clues, and thousands will die. It’s our crowning achievement.”

  “It’s our death sentence.”

  She shrugged. “Our point will be made.”

  “And the point is?”

  “They should never have killed my husband.”

  “Or Francesca’s.”

  Pain flashed across Tanya’s face. She put her fork down and sighed. “Yes. Or Francesca’s.”

  “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “Francesca is gone, Omar. She died in a drone strike.”

  Omar blinked.

  “She posed as me,” Tanya said, and explained how she used Francesca’s story to pass her off as the real leader of the Islamic Union.

  “She volunteered?” Omar said.

  “She never recovered from Tamal’s death,” Tanya said. “It was too much for her. She wanted to be with him again.”

  “A supreme sacrifice.” He picked up his water glass. Tanya lifted hers and they toasted their fallen comrade.

  “It was enough,” she said, “to get me inside. To get you out.”

  “I’m not sure I’m worth the cost.”

  “You are to me,” she said. “I’ve already lost Ahmad. I wasn’t going to lose you too.”

  She pushed the remains of her plate to him. He set his empty plate aside and ate some more.

  Tanya swallowed some water and watched Omar. He kept his eyes on his plate. She hadn’t planned on falling in love again after Ahmad’s death at the hands of the Americans. Her meeting him had been out of necessity as he carried out logistical operations in Europe. She’d immediately been smitten the confident operative with the hot brown eyes.

  She struggled with the attraction at first. She felt like she was betraying Ahmad. But he’d have wanted her to be happy. She gave in, and Omar responded. They’d seen each other as much as possible until his capture.

  The differences between Ahmad and Omar were huge. Omar was more careful. Ahmad had too much rage inside him, rage fueled by the murder of his grandfather. It made him reckless and ultimately cost him his life. Omar was focused, calculating, cold. Emotions did not affect him.

  There was no going back now. The Americans knew who she was, and she’d embarrassed them. They’d rattle every cage to find her again. Her only course was to remain in hiding. She hoped the island headquarters provided long-term sanctuary. And if they ever tracked her down, the island provided many means of escape. She also considered altering her face. It might be the only way to avoid the CIA’s kill squads and remain a thorn in their side.

  But she could figure out those options later.

  Right now, she had Omar back. Operation Triangle was underway. Nothing else mattered.

  But Sam Raven wasn’t far from her thoughts, either. She’d made a fool of him. He’d be looking for her too. And he might prove much more resourceful than the entire CIA.

  5

  Hugo Schrader ate the same sandwich for lunch every day.

  Turkey, mustard, slice of cheddar cheese on wheat bread. Bottle of mineral water and an apple. Every day. He liked order and routine. Now and then proper business forced him to have lunch with clients or prospects. Those meetings might take place in fine restaurants, but the change in routine made the rest of his day difficult. Change threw him mentally off-balance.

  Order and routine. Attention to detail. He’d avoided prison by sticking to rules. He’d become successful adhering to similar rules. At 75 years of age, Hugo Schrader saw no reason to change.

  His hair hadn’t fallen out, but most of the dark hair of his youth was gone, replaced by gray.

  Schrader’s vibrant eyes missed no detail. His close examination of even the smallest item added to his aura of power, his confident stride. He’d proven himself long ago. Now, he was the aged lion the young pups looked up to.

  He sat at his desk in the corner office of a skyscraper overlooking the Spree River. Schrader Venture Capital was the largest such firm in Germany. The previous year, they’d seen 2.3-billion euros in profit from start-up investments. There’d been a few losers, always were, but the winners made up the difference.

  He watched the boats below while finishing his apple. There had been a time when his daughters leaned against the glass to watch the boats too. They’d mark the glass with their fingerprints and breath. Those days were over.

  Tanya was across the world fighting the revolution.

  His youngest, Hannah, barely spoke to him.

  He tossed the apple core and sandwich bag in the wastebasket beside his desk. He then used a spritz of Windex and a microfiber towel to clean the top of his glass desk. He placed the Windex and towel in the bottom drawer. The intercom on his desk buzzed. He pressed the button. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Dassler to see you, Mr. Schrader.”

  “He doesn’t have an appointment.”

  “He says it’s urgent.”

  Schrader frowned. “All right.” He switched off the intercom and straightened his tie.

  The door opened and Phillip Dassler entered the office. He was Schrader’s IT specialist and managed the crew who made sure the company’s computer systems functioned without hiccup.

  He aided Schrader’s side activities, too. Schrader had a sinking feeling his “urgent” visit meant bad news.

  Dassler sat only when invited, and Schrader faced him across the clean glass top. “What is it?”

  “We’re being raided.”

  Schrader sighed. Dassler was thirty years younger, full of youthful arrogance, as he had been. The blond-haired IT chief looked thick in the middle. He tried to hide his gut with large shirts but with little success.

  “Can you explain that in German?”

  Dassler said, “Somebody is trying to infiltrate our computer systems.”

  Schrader shrugged. “Usual competitors looking for a weakness. What’s the problem?”

  “It’s not usual at all, Mr. Schrader. I’m talking about government hackers. They’re coming at us hard. They’ll get through eventually.”

  “Move the sensitive data off our systems.”

  “In progress. I only hope we’ll have it cleared off before they get through.”

  “It’s a certainty?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why is BND looking at my company?”

  The BND. Bundesnachrichtendienst. German Federal Intelligence Service. The largest component of German intelligence.

  Dassler’s already pale skin lost a little more color. “I think it’s the Americans, Mr. Schrader.”

  Hugo Schrader betrayed no reaction except to blink.

  “Why?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Thank you for telling me, Phillip. Excuse me while I call Mr. Speidel.”

  Dassler nodded and left the office. He closed the door quietly behind him.

  Schrader didn’t pick up his desk phone. He now considered it tapped. He wasn’t sure he should use his cell phone, but he knew how to make a call seem innocent while communicating critical information.

  He selected a name from his contact list and plugged in a B
luetooth earpiece.

  Two rings. Then: “Yes, Mr. Schrader?”

  Sebastian Speidel was almost as efficient as Schrader. Hugo also liked that his initials spelled out S.S. A novelty, but an appropriate one.

  “See me at my office. Most important.”

  “Something wrong?”

  “Get here as soon as possible.” Schrader cut off the call before Speidel asked more questions. He might be efficient, but he had a habit of gathering all available information before taking action. Schrader was trying to break him of the habit.

  While he waited, he told his secretary to cancel his afternoon meetings. He turned his chair to look out at the river. His mind raced while his face remained impassive.

  What were the Americans up to?

  What did the hacking attempt have to do with Tanya’s visit to the United States?

  Within thirty minutes Schrader’s secretary announced Speidel’s arrival. The office door swung open. Speidel wore a gray suit and black tie to match his black-framed glasses. Another blond, hair slicked back, straight jawline and prominent chin. “I’m here, Mr. Schrader.”

  “Somebody is trying to hack our computers, and Dassler thinks it’s the Americans.”

  “I was afraid of such a thing.”

  “Sit down and tell me why.”

  Speidel took a chair and crossed his legs. “Francesca Sloan may have been killed.”

  “May?”

  “I’ve yet to confirm. I’m only hearing chatter at this time.”

  “Once again you’re waiting too long to give me information I need, Sebastian.”

  Speidel shrugged off the comment. “I’m not going to pass along gossip, sir.”

  Like Dassler, Sebastian Speidel did double-duty at Schrader Venture Capital. Dassler worked in cyberspace to keep Schrader’s subversive activities from prying eyes. Speidel took the physical roll of enforcer, fixer, and intelligence chief.

  “Tell me what you’ve learned,” Schrader said.

  “I’m hearing she was killed in a drone strike in Syria around the same time as Tanya was in the United States.”

  “What’s the connection?”

  “I’m not sure. The Americans are undercover in Syria looking for terrorists. They may have gotten lucky. Tanya is safe in Paris, after all.”