Page 66 of Until the End

“Ten? They’re rolling heavy,” Echo said. “Too bad we’re down a guy.”

“We have to get to Mendoza first.” Bravo tucked his gun in his shoulder rig. “We’ll try to snatch him at home before he goes to campus.”

“Who else do you think is tracking her?” Charlie asked, unlocking the front door.

Bravo pushed his glasses up along the bridge of his nose. “I suspect we’ll find out soon enough in Cambridge.”

21

Dulles International Airport

Monday, 5:20 a.m. EDT

The first signs of early morning were breaking through in the east, lightening the indigo sky.

Sierra rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck as the Gulfstream touched down on the dark tarmac. A black Suburban waited a hundred feet from the hangar, out of the airport cameras’ line of sight.

The bird slowed, coming to a smooth stop near their vehicle. The team sprang into action without exchanging a word. A clear objective and years of working fluidly side by side enabled them to go into autopilot at this stage.

She collected a black leather duffel bag in each hand and led the way off the aircraft.

During the flight, they’d rotated keeping watch over their quarry, allowing everyone a chance to eat in peace and snooze a few hours without worry.

Sucking in a lungful of fresh air, she was invigorated and ready to tackle the next phase.

Her husband, Yankee, was behind her and had Yosef Khan by the elbow, hauling him down the steps. The relative still of dawn was shattered by the clanking of Khan’s shackles. Wrist and ankle restraints had been necessary for the flight, not giving their captive the slightest opportunity to take advantage if someone’s guard slipped while they were locked in a tin can thirty thousand feet in the air.

She threw the bags in the trunk, leaving it open for Whiskey and Victor, who each carried half their body weight in weaponry. The private plane had been costly but invaluable for smuggling their gear and Khan past customs.

They had no intention of hiding the fact that the ISIS-linked terrorist was on American soil. On the contrary, they wanted the world to know. But on their terms.

Sierra took out her burner phone and sent the planned text.

ZULU homecoming. Dressed for prom.

They were an hour behind schedule and she wasn’t sure if she’d get a response, but the phone chimed with a text.

Decorations are up. Music is playing.

All the pieces were in place. She slapped the burner phone closed.

Flip phones were harder to trace. No GPS module, no data plan required, and the only way to track it was to see which tower it was connected to. Add an encrypted mobile app and their communications were invisible.

Whiskey slammed the trunk door shut. They were loaded up and ready to rock. She nodded to Yankee, giving him the signal. As Yankee removed Khan’s blindfold and restraints, Victor drew his .45-caliber Heckler & Koch HK45 Tactical handgun, threaded on a suppressor, and added a front laser sight.

“Please walk to within ten feet of the left side of the open bay, cross the front of the hangar to the right side, and walk back,” Yankee said.

Khan laughed, a coarse sound that held no joy in it. “Why would I do that?”

“Because he asked so nicely,” Sierra said, drawing his attention. “Unless you’d prefer rough.”

Khan’s gaze flicked back to her husband. “What’s to stop me from running?”

“He is.” Yankee pointed to Victor, the team’s sniper and best shot. “Fifteen rounds on tap.”

“You don’t want me dead,” Khan said. “I’ve surmised that much.”

Yankee’s hard expression didn’t change. “No, we don’t.”