REGIONAL MEDICAL CENTER - LANDSTUHL
Bravo Team walked off the transport as a unit. Sean Paulsen kept a steady pace at the front, his voice low but firm as he issued orders. “Alpha squad will rotate perimeter sweeps every two hours. No exceptions. Bravo squad will take the barracks, eat, shower, and sleep for six hours before taking over. Krueger is still active. He is not finished.”
They all understood the mission had shifted again. Tonight was about defense. Soon, it would become pursuit.
INDUSTRIAL WAREHOUSE – OUTSKIRTS OF KAISERSLAUTERN
A black SUV rolled to a stop outside a corrugated metal warehouse with boarded windows and no exterior sign. The driver cut the engine. The structure looked abandoned, but several vehicles were already parked inside.
Krueger stepped out and inhaled the cool air, savoring it. His arranged contact gave him a curt nod. “The device is secure inside,” the man reported. “Your movement window is limited. Tell me the target.”
Krueger walked past him with the lead-lined case. “The target is a man on life support.”
The contact frowned. “This is not what nuclear devices are for.”
Krueger set the case onto a workbench, then smiled. “The bomb is not for him. I am. The bomb is going to New York.”
ENTRY CHECKPOINT
The wind pushed mist across the floodlights as Krueger approached the service entrance. He wore a hospital courier jacket he stripped from a man who, thanks to quick use of his gun, no longer needed it. He pushed a cart holding a medical cooler marked with a red cross.
The guard barely looked at him. Couriers arrived at all hours. There were no alerts issued. The night seemed uneventful.
Krueger handed over a forged order slip. The barcode scanned cleanly, a product of his sponsor’s resources rather than his own skill. The guard nodded and waved him through.
Inside the cooler lay a compact suppressed handgun and a small vial of paralytic agent he carried from Africa. He paused beneath the shadow of the service hallway. The hospital towered above him, its windows glowing faintly in the fog.
Somewhere inside, Dante Olivetti breathed.
Somewhere inside, Shannon Johnson waited, unaware.
Krueger smiled to himself.
REGIONAL MEDICAL CENTER
Mike Johnson and Ian Chase stepped out of the SUV into pouring rain and sharp wind.
Hunt met them at the entrance. “He’s alive, but barely. Septic, renal failure, and his other systems are stressed. If he’d arrived one hour later, he wouldn’t have survived.”
Mike inhaled shakily. Ian placed a steady hand on his shoulder.
“Let’s go,” Mike said. “He needs us. And so does Shannon.”
Neither man mentioned Krueger’s escape.
ICU
Mike found her exactly where he knew she’d be: in a chair, with her knees pulled up, her head against Dante’s arm. “Sweetheart,” he knelt beside her, “you need rest.”
She shook her head. “I’m not leaving him. I can’t. Not when…” She swallowed hard. “Not when Krueger is still out there.”
Mike went still. “Who told you that?”
“No one,” she whispered. “I can feel it.”
Mike rested his forehead against hers. “You’re the strongest person I know. And you’re right, he’s not finished. That’s why we’re here.” He inhaled. “Try to rest right here.
She exhaled shakily and nodded.
