Hunt nodded. “Yes. One at a time.”
She slipped inside the ICU. Dante lay shivering from fever beneath the cooling blankets, wrapped in a web of wires and tubes, his chest rising slowly with the ventilator. His hair was damp, lips cracked and his handsome face bruised. But he was there.
She touched his hand. “I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m not leaving you.”
His fingers twitched faintly. She needed to believe it was on purpose.
She broke silently with her forehead against his arm. She didn’t leave him for the next twenty-four hours.
FORTY-SEVEN
NORTHERN MALI
Krueger sat in the back of a military helicopter that belonged to no single flag. The aircraft was maintained by mercenaries and funded by a shadowy patron whose face he had never seen. Orders came through encrypted channels with the kind of precision that made questions unnecessary.
At Krueger’s side sat a sealed, lead-lined case. The third nuclear device was smaller than the previous two—a dirty bomb. He rested his fingertips lightly on the metal as if he were tracing the curve of something precious.
“Germany,” he said under his breath. “Time to visit an old friend.”
He smiled without warmth. Dante Olivetti had managed to survive Africa. He would not survive Europe. Neither would the girl he loved.
The helicopter banked hard through the clouds. Krueger leaned back in his seat, content. He was already planning how to end the story.
RAMSTEIN AIR BASE – ABANDONED REFUELING PAD
The helicopter never approached the main runway. It descended into the farthest section of Ramstein, toward a cracked and empty refueling pad scheduled for demolition. No tower saw the landing. No record was logged.
Krueger stepped into the cool German air as soon as the skids kissed concrete. Fog clung low to the ground and swirled around the mercenaries unloading the lead-lined case.
A waiting courier waved him toward a dark van with its engine running. The doors opened, and Krueger climbed inside without speaking.
Within minutes, the van melted into the fog, heading straight toward the city. Krueger sat back, satisfied. His timing was perfect. Dante had arrived only hours ago, battered and clinging to life.
Krueger needed him alive a little longer. Only long enough to watch him break and die.
ICU – GERMANY
Dante lay in the intensive care unit since the moment thesurgery doors opened. Although stable, whatever that meant for him, he remained dangerously fragile. The nurses moved around him with quiet urgency, threading lines, checking monitors, and confirming the dialysis machine was set properly.
Shannon sat beside his bed, her hands clasped so tightly, her knuckles had gone pale. She did not look away when new drips were attached, when the nurse drained reddish tea-color urine from his Foley catheter bag, or when Hunt reviewed the bloodwork with a heavy expression.
“We bought time today,” Hunt assured her. “Time is not the same as safety. Now we wait and see if he responds.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Shannon whispered.
Hunt simply closed his eyes and looked down. His Adam’s apple bounced.
Shannon nodded, unable to trust her voice. She reached for Dante’s hand.
Ford stepped into the hallway outside the glass wall. Exhaustion had carved deep hollows under his eyes. He watched Dante through the window as Shannon stepped out to use the restroom. “Any change?”
Shannon placed her hand on Ford’s shoulder. “He squeezed my fingers earlier. It may have been reflex.”
“It still counts. Anything counts right now.”
“Don’t leave him.”
“Not for a minute.” Ford put on an isolation gown from a box outside the door and went inside.
