water. “You were a tech whiz when I knew you in Shanghai. Are you still?”
A blush rosied her friend’s cheeks. “Yes.”
“Graduated top of your class, right?” Cassie couldn’t stop her laugh when Kiew’s chin tucked even more. “I had no doubt.”
Even as she said the words, pieces of a puzzle fell into place, revealing a canvas of deception Cassie had not realized she’d been painted into. The colors were brightly spread with a masterful touch. Slick and perfect.
Too
perfect.
She’d been used. Manipulated. Set up.
Fifteen Klicks North of Kandahar, Afghanistan
28 March—1700 Hours
Rock and dirt clawed his shirt and arms as Sal low-crawled through the tunnel. Dust plumed in his face with each breath, tickling his nostrils and aggravating his eyes. Even with his shoulder lamp on, he had limited visual range. The temperature was at least fifteen degrees cooler than aboveground. He dug his elbows into the rocky surface and hauled himself forward. The tunnel ahead was black. Indiscernible.
Sal dragged himself forward, squinting through the gritty, cool air. Another ten feet told him why it was so dark. “Son of a…” He spit, the sand grinding between his teeth and digging into his gums. Wiping the sweat from his face, he keyed his mic. “Another fifteen yards in. T-juncture. Nothing else.” The tunnel ended in a T with options going right and left. Again. He bit back a curse. This tunnel rat had escaped.
Static crackled through his coms. “Riordan here. Same thing.”
Every tunnel branched into two. It’d be impossible to figure out which way the spook had gone. Smart tunnel rat.
His shoulder lamp blinked out. With a grunt, Sal slapped it. Though it flickered, it didn’t stay on. “Lamp’s out,” Sal grumbled. He pulled himself forward into the T and angled to the right then shimmied backward so he wouldn’t have to crawl backward to the village. “Coming ba—”
A noise severed his words. Scraping… no, not scraping. That was too harsh. It was like… breathing. Labored, ragged breathing.
Sal stilled.
I’m not alone
. Awareness erupted through his chest with a blanket of hot dread. And yet his pulse raced at the thought of capturing this spook.
He closed his eyes, listening. Homing in on the sound. Somehow, it was getting farther away. But… ahead? He cocked his head slightly, listening. Slowing his own breathing and thoughts.
“Falcon, you there? We’re not receiving. You broke up,” Hawk’s voice squawked through his coms, the team monitoring his movement through a tracking device. He mentally silenced his teammate.
Scritch
.
Ahead! It came from ahead.
Sal crammed his boot against the tunnel wall and launched himself forward. Punched his hand forward. The rocky ceiling slapped his helmeted head.
His fingers grazed something smooth. Hard. Rubber. Boots!
But just as fast, the boot vanished. The spook grunted, rock and dirt churning, revealing the spook’s attempt to get away.
Not on my watch
.
Sal scrabbled forward, using every ounce of energy and every inch to catch this sand spider. He surged deeper into the left vein of the splintered tunnel. As he reached, something cracked against his hand. Pain shot through his finger.
The spook kicked, nailing Sal in the face. He glanced away but clawed at the leg. Caught purchase.
Both feet shot into Sal, nailing him in the nose—he’d swear lights erupted in the tunnel from the flash of white that shot through his skull. Warmth sped down his lip and nose and throat. He coughed but refused to relent. His fingers coiled around fabric.
“Contact with target,” Sal growled through his coms.
A scratchy
riiip
filled the air amid grunts and the dribbling rocks. In that split second he realized his fatal mistake—he was trapped and exposed to this spook. With no light to guide him, he had to rely on his hearing. And that hearing told him the spook had just pulled a weapon from a holster.
Then he saw it.
A tiny explosion that
A blush rosied her friend’s cheeks. “Yes.”
“Graduated top of your class, right?” Cassie couldn’t stop her laugh when Kiew’s chin tucked even more. “I had no doubt.”
Even as she said the words, pieces of a puzzle fell into place, revealing a canvas of deception Cassie had not realized she’d been painted into. The colors were brightly spread with a masterful touch. Slick and perfect.
Too
perfect.
She’d been used. Manipulated. Set up.
Fifteen Klicks North of Kandahar, Afghanistan
28 March—1700 Hours
Rock and dirt clawed his shirt and arms as Sal low-crawled through the tunnel. Dust plumed in his face with each breath, tickling his nostrils and aggravating his eyes. Even with his shoulder lamp on, he had limited visual range. The temperature was at least fifteen degrees cooler than aboveground. He dug his elbows into the rocky surface and hauled himself forward. The tunnel ahead was black. Indiscernible.
Sal dragged himself forward, squinting through the gritty, cool air. Another ten feet told him why it was so dark. “Son of a…” He spit, the sand grinding between his teeth and digging into his gums. Wiping the sweat from his face, he keyed his mic. “Another fifteen yards in. T-juncture. Nothing else.” The tunnel ended in a T with options going right and left. Again. He bit back a curse. This tunnel rat had escaped.
Static crackled through his coms. “Riordan here. Same thing.”
Every tunnel branched into two. It’d be impossible to figure out which way the spook had gone. Smart tunnel rat.
His shoulder lamp blinked out. With a grunt, Sal slapped it. Though it flickered, it didn’t stay on. “Lamp’s out,” Sal grumbled. He pulled himself forward into the T and angled to the right then shimmied backward so he wouldn’t have to crawl backward to the village. “Coming ba—”
A noise severed his words. Scraping… no, not scraping. That was too harsh. It was like… breathing. Labored, ragged breathing.
Sal stilled.
I’m not alone
. Awareness erupted through his chest with a blanket of hot dread. And yet his pulse raced at the thought of capturing this spook.
He closed his eyes, listening. Homing in on the sound. Somehow, it was getting farther away. But… ahead? He cocked his head slightly, listening. Slowing his own breathing and thoughts.
“Falcon, you there? We’re not receiving. You broke up,” Hawk’s voice squawked through his coms, the team monitoring his movement through a tracking device. He mentally silenced his teammate.
Scritch
.
Ahead! It came from ahead.
Sal crammed his boot against the tunnel wall and launched himself forward. Punched his hand forward. The rocky ceiling slapped his helmeted head.
His fingers grazed something smooth. Hard. Rubber. Boots!
But just as fast, the boot vanished. The spook grunted, rock and dirt churning, revealing the spook’s attempt to get away.
Not on my watch
.
Sal scrabbled forward, using every ounce of energy and every inch to catch this sand spider. He surged deeper into the left vein of the splintered tunnel. As he reached, something cracked against his hand. Pain shot through his finger.
The spook kicked, nailing Sal in the face. He glanced away but clawed at the leg. Caught purchase.
Both feet shot into Sal, nailing him in the nose—he’d swear lights erupted in the tunnel from the flash of white that shot through his skull. Warmth sped down his lip and nose and throat. He coughed but refused to relent. His fingers coiled around fabric.
“Contact with target,” Sal growled through his coms.
A scratchy
riiip
filled the air amid grunts and the dribbling rocks. In that split second he realized his fatal mistake—he was trapped and exposed to this spook. With no light to guide him, he had to rely on his hearing. And that hearing told him the spook had just pulled a weapon from a holster.
Then he saw it.
A tiny explosion that
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