Krueger’s voice dropped to a growl. “The Sahel. You think you stopped something with your little burn operations, your black site raids? You just pissed them off. There’s a fuse lit in Africa, and it’s not going out.”
He spread his hands slightly, palms up against the limits of the chains. “You want to stop what’s coming? You’ll need me.Because the people behind this don’t take conference calls. And they sure as hell don’t answer subpoenas.”
“Who funded you?” Zach asked, voice even.
“You don’t ask who. You askhow. And I’ll tell you—if you’re done playing the hero and ready to talk exit paths.”
Zach closed the file slowly. “You think you can buy yourself out of this?”
Krueger’s smile sharpened. “I think you know this doesn’t end in this room.”
Zach stood.
“You walk out without making a deal,” Krueger said, “you lose the only man who can stop what’s already in motion.”
Zach paused with his hand on the file.
Krueger leaned in. “They’re not aiming at Fort Novosel anymore.”
CID CONFERENCE ROOM
The briefing room was packed, maps of the Sahel projected across the wall, red marks scattered across Niger, Mali, and Burkina Faso. Martin Bailey had arrived fifteen minutes earlier from DC and stood at the front, folders stacked, his tone sharp.
“The interrogation confirmed chatter we’ve been picking up from AFRICOM. Krueger says operations are ramping up again. He’s not the architect, but he’s tied in deeply enough to know. That means he’s credible,” Zach sighed.
Ian Chase leaned forward, calm but cold. “He gave us a thread. We pull it before it knots. And we’ll try to do it without Krueger.”
Ford sat stiffly, eyes on the map, jaw set. “We already saw how thin the line is out there. If this explodes again, it won’t stay regional. It’ll bleed across the continent.”
Zach tapped his pen against the folder. “We’ve got leverage. Krueger’s desperate to feel relevant. He’ll talk more if he thinks it keeps him alive. But we can’t waste time. Every delay gives his backers room to move.”
Ian’s reply was even but final. “We’ll support. But we can’t sit idly by. The Sahel is a fire we’ve already been burned by once.”
Ford’s eyes stayed on the red markers, his mind already turning over how close the fight was pressing again.
ICU ROOM 4
The room was quiet. Dante stepped out, leaving Shannon alone with her father, who stood beside her bed, arms folded, gaze steady on her.
“Dad,” she rasped, her voice rough. “Tell me the truth. Krueger… what’s going to happen to him?”
Mike exhaled, his hand rubbing his stubbled jaw. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he pulled a chair closer and sat down. “He’s in custody. CID has him locked down; Chase has oversight. He’s not getting out.”
Her eyes searched his, raw and haunted. “Is he going to pay for what he did to me and Mara?” She remembered now that her head was clearer.
Mike’s throat tightened. He reached across, covering her hand carefully. “Yes. I swear to you, Shannon. He won’t touch freedom again. He’ll spend the rest of his life in a cell, and even that won’t balance the scales. But it’s justice. And it’s coming.”
Her lips trembled, tears sliding free. She gripped his hand weakly. “I don’t want him near me ever again.”
Mike leaned forward, his voice low but fierce. “He won’t. I’ll see to it. That’s my promise, as your father.”
The door opened softly, and Dante stepped in, carrying a smoothie for her. “I’ve got something for you. It beats ice chips.”
Shannon looked up, her eyes watery. “I don’t want to be broken, Dante. I don’t want him to win.”
Dante reached for her hand. When she didn’t pull away, he laced their fingers gently. “He hasn’t won. You’re still here. Breathing. Fighting. That’s victory. And when you’re ready, you’ll walk out of here stronger than he ever imagined.”
SECURED BRIEFING ROOM – 0313 HOURS
