One of the guards nearly dropped his rifle.
Harper gave Rami a look that saidtry to play us again, and we walk.
Rami raised a hand, and distant feet scuffed. A rifle was slung. Another shifted position. The air changed just enough for Rafe to track it.
“Better,” Harper said smoothly. “Now we can do business.”
Rami studied both men before finally lifting the crate lid. Inside was a metal cylinder, unmarked and cold to the touch, with radiation shielding. Rafe’s jaw clicked once. This was no bluff.
Harper leaned in, eyes hooded. “Now we’re talking.”
Rami smiled like a man who believed he held all the cards. “Mr. Khalil will be happy hearing your response.”
“And now,” Harper said, straightening, “you tell me who else is bidding.”
Rami’s smile sharpened. “Buyers talk too much.”
Harper’s eyes went flat. “I don’t ask twice.”
Rami hesitated.
Rafe stepped forward, slow and predatory, his presence filling the cramped space with quiet violence.
Rami’s pulse visibly kicked. He lifted his palms. “Very well. There is… another interested party.”
Harper’s voice was soft. “Name.”
Rami’s gaze flicked once toward a shadowed corner.
Something in Rafe’s chest went cold. He knew that instinct. That shift of danger.
Harper checked his watch. “Who?” That told Rafe that Harper caught it too.
Rami exhaled. “A new arrival,” he said reluctantly. “American. Former military. Very eager.”
Harper and Rafe locked eyes. Rafe’s heartbeat slowed.
Rami continued, “His name is Daniel Krueger.”
The temperature in the room dropped. Harper’s expression didn’t change. Rafe’s did a fraction. For the first time since transforming into Moretti, he felt something burn.
NIGER – AIR BASE 201, AGADEZ – 18:12 LOCAL
Heat slammed into Shannon the moment she stepped off the C-130 ramp. Not the dry desert heat she’d imagined. It was a thick, shimmering furnace wrapping around her, pulling sweat to her skin instantly. The air smelled like jet fuel, red sand, and distant woodsmoke.
“Lieutenant Johnson?” A tall master sergeant in sun-bleached fatigues approached, clipboard under his arm, the desert etched into the lines of his face.
“That’s me.” She adjusted her pack.
“Welcome to Agadez. Grab your gear. Briefing’s in twenty.” He started walking. “Don’t wander. Sun’ll cook you before the enemy can.”
The base wasn’t large, but it was buzzing: mechanics on ladder rigs, intel officers hustling between ops tents, crews refueling helos that shimmered in the evening heat. She spotted several HH-60G Pave Hawks parked in a row like sleeping beasts, armored and ready.
Her breath caught. She really was going to fly again.
Aviation crew jogged past her, boots pounding on dusty earth. She fell into step behind them, her hip twinging once as memory rather than pain. She touched the spot lightly. “I’m ready,” she whispered.
THE CISTERN – COMMAND ANNEX
