Ronan
Location: Eastern Europe — Rural Rail Corridor
Time: 1122 Hours
We don’t follow the vehicle.
We follow theabsenceit creates.
That’s the trick Malenkov relies on—convoys, escorts, noise. He expects eyes on the obvious. What he doesn’t account for is the way Delta Five hunts: by watching what stops moving when it should be busy.
Miles feeds the data straight to my HUD. “Thermal signature matches Lena’s projection. Single transport. No external escort.”
“Of course,” Aaron mutters. “He thinks Jonah’s already spent.”
I keep my eyes on the narrow service road that parallels the rail spur. Our vehicle stays back—far back. Far enough to look like we don’t exist at all.
Shadowing isn’t pursuit.
It’s patience.
I’m glad Lena agreed to stay home, even though she’s feeding us all the information we need. I know she’s safe, andthere are plenty of men guarding her.
The transport moves steadily, hugging terrain that funnels sound downward—no sudden changes. No stops. Whoever’s driving knows precisely how far he can push without triggering suspicion.
“He’s confident,” I say quietly.
“And that makes him sloppy,” Jase replies.
The rail line curves ahead, disappearing into a cut through the hillside. An old access tunnel runs beneath it—decommissioned, officially collapsed.
Unofficially?
Still breathing.
“There,” Lena says through comms. “That’s the handoff point.”
I nod even though she can’t see me. “We see it.”
The transport slows.
Just enough.
No brake lights.
No indicators.
The driver doesn’t want anyone to know a decision has been made.
“Hold,” I whisper.
We don’t move as the vehicle turns off the service road and disappears into the tunnel mouth, as if it’s being swallowed whole.
Seconds pass.
Ten.
Twenty.
