The general scowled at her. “What the hell are you saying?”

She was already gone, walking out of the bar with unhurried steps, the bar door swinging closed behind her.

The waitress brought the second round of drinks to the table. Forbes half stood, still clutching at his heart. He suddenly fell, going to his knees, his chair tipping back. “Oh, my God,” the waitress said. “Bill, I think he’s having a heart attack. Call an ambulance.”

As the words left her mouth, Fielding tried to stand and went down, smashing his head on the table, his hands gripping the edges so hard the table overturned. Several people ran to help. No one noticed the man removing the two glasses from the floor and pocketing them, leaving the newly spilled whiskey glasses beside the overturned table. He left the bar as the paramedics arrived.

Eiji walked out of the bar and down the sidewalk, using the same unhurried pace his sister had. He turned into the alley where she waited, once more in jeans, with her long hair pulled back in a ponytail. As he walked down the alley toward her, he reversed his light-colored coat to the darker blue side, slicked his hair back, and waited while Azami deftly changed the laces in his shoes to a bright pink. They both donned backpacks they had stashed. He dropped his arm around her shoulders, and they emerged onto the next street on the other side of the block, Eiji hailing a cab.

Daylight gave way to darkness, although there seemed to be little difference with the constant rain in the jungle. Sometimes the rain let up for a short while and then it would start again in earnest. They continued their journey toward the port where the GhostWalkers hoped to “acquire” a boat.

The rising sun found them four miles from town where they settled in for the day. It was far too risky in the more populated area to travel. With the sun, the rain faded into a mist and then gradually disappeared altogether.

“We’ll rest here,” Ryland decided. “Try to scavenge up some food, find a water source, and clean up a bit.”

They all carried baby wipes and basic hygiene necessities and it felt good to take some of the grime of battle and travel off. Water came from a creek that ran into the nearby Congo River. Kyle, Jonas, and Gator went looking for food for everyone. Kyle managed to come up with a couple of dozen bananas and Jonas collected wild yams. Gator built a fish weir in the creek and captured a few tilapia.

Sam and Nico dug an oblong hole and built a fire in it. Using green limbs, they built a rack over the fire and cooked the fish and yams. They all sat back, finally satisfied, feeling as if they’d attended a virtual feast. The food was much needed, as it had been some time since they’d consumed any of their rations.

“We’re going to revise our plan a little and go with a new strategy for the night,” Ryland said. It was evident that while the others collected and cooked food, Ryland and Kadan had been working on a new plan. “We’ll split into two teams. The teams will do independent recons of two different routes to port. We’d like to find a small boat to take us down the Congo River to the Atlantic. When we’ve completed our recons, we’ll meet back up at a designated ORP and make a decision how to proceed. Any questions?”

Again there was no pause. “Good. Let’s get it done, gentlemen.”

Sam, Nico, Kadan, and Jonas headed out, traveling fast, as soon as they’d settled on an objective rally point. Sam slipped into the brush, close to the port. The place was heavily guarded, presumably to keep the rebels out. Armed men in uniforms paced restlessly. Several stood together, talking quietly, smoke and laughter drifting back toward him. He worked his way all along the river, trying to find some means of transportation, but the security had the place locked down tight. Cursing under his breath, he made his way back to his three team members. All of them shook their heads silently.

Kadan gave the signal to retreat back to the designated objective rally point. They could only hope that Ryland’s team had fared better. They crouched down, waiting for Ryland’s team when the radio gave a soft sigh.

“Burning Man … Burning Man … this is Firefly, over.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. He was trapped in the jungle, no way to get out, the president’s army all around them. The soldiers sure as hell didn’t have a clue they were the good guys, and if caught, no one would claim them—not even the man who had asked for help.

He swallowed hard. She was right about the clarity of the radio. It sounded as if she was whispering in his ear. He hoped she was right about the audio capability—she’d devised some new audio device that if they stayed under fifteen seconds with each transmission, was supposed to be impossible to detect. Just the sound of her voice made him want to hold her close.

“Burning Man, over.”

“Your ride is waiting.”

“Copy that, Firefly, ride is waiting, over.”

“Tell leader, problem taken care of. Home office clear as well. Firefly out.”

His heart jerked. It seemed a hell of a lot easier to run around jungles with enemies surrounding him when he had nothing to lose. The freighter was anchored and waiting for them. They just had to make it out to the boat.

Ryland’s team returned, looking as dejected as he felt. Kadan gave his report. Ryland’s echoed it. The port was too heavily guarded to chance it. They’d have to move on.

Firefly has our ride in place. Sam was glad to give some good news. Rye, the problem both in the general’s office and the one you wanted addressed has been taken care of.

Ryland’s nod was barely perceptible, but he looked pleased.

It was a long, slow walk skirting the town. Several times they ran into dogs, but Gator quieted them before they could bark and give the team away. On the other side of town, they once again split into two teams for another recon. Almost immediately Sam spotted a van. The vehicle didn’t look in much better shape than the truck had been, but it was transport. Old and rusty, the paint chipping, it would at least provide concealment as well as needed transportation. From what Sam had seen, most of the vehicles—and there weren’t many—were in the same condition.

Gator and Sam crept slowly to the edge of town where the vehicle sat. A dog barked somewhere close and Gator turned his head toward it. The dog let out a soft whine and ceased barking. Sam went down on one knee and guarded Gator’s back while the Cajun hot-wired the van. Gator sent Sam a triumphant grin when the van rumbled to life. Sam jumped in on the other side and they got out of there quickly. A quarter mile away, they paused at the edge of the road long enough for the others to jump in the open side door.

“Wonderful carriage,” Kyle quipped.

“Nice work,” Ryland commented.

The van creaked and moaned, but it was running and that was all that counted. They only needed to get another ninety-two miles according to the GPS. Having a vehicle, even though it was rusted in three spots on the floorboards, allowing them to see the road beneath flashing by, meant they would make their destination by daybreak.

It was a long trip as a few more cars occasionally shared the road with them. Once a truckload of soldiers rumbled past and all of them held their breath, grateful the van was closed and nearly impossible to see into in the dark. Gator simply slowed and moved to the side, allowing the truck to rumble past them.

“Stop strokin’ that gun, Kyle,” Gator said. “You’re makin’ me nervous. I’m thinkin’ you’re about to make love to the damn thing.”

“She is purty,” Kyle said, giving the gun one last caress, his eyes watching the truck ahead. “Slow down a little, and let them get ahead of us, Gator.”

“What if they put up a roadblock?” Jonas asked.

Ryland opened one eye. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Can the chatter and let me sleep. We’ve got swimming to do and I’m getting too old for this shit.”

“Do they have sharks off this coast?” Jonas asked.

Sam snickered. “You and those sharks, Jonas.”

“I have nightmares, man,” Jonas protested.

“I’ll feed you to a damn shark if you don’t let me sleep,” Ryland drawled.

Kadan and Nico exchanged amused glances.

Ryland opened both eyes. “I heard that. I’m not that old.”

They all laughed and tension eased now that the truckload of soldiers was well up ahead of them. They drove through the night and made it to the coast just before dawn broke. Working fast, they filled the waterproof bag lining their rucksacks with air. The combination of inflated bags, empty canteens, and removing anything unnecessary would allow them to float their weapons and remaining gear out to the boat with them.

For what they couldn’t carry, they dug a hole, piled in what was left of the gear, and used the remaining explosives saved for just such an occasion. They always destroyed anything that could later be used against them—or against another team—and anything that might identify them. They detonated the explosives as they waded out to sea.

Gator turned and waved with a big grin. “Nice meetin’ y’all.”

“Is Mari in the tunnel yet?” Lily asked.

Azami shook her head. “She’s refusing to go and I can’t say that I blame her. She wants guns and ammo. Briony took her twins down and she has Daniel. I’ve got Eiji with them and no one will get past him. He knows that they’re the main target and he’ll guard them with his life. We need all the available trained soldiers up here. I told Daiki to stay with Mari.”

“Mari will lose those babies if they get to her and try to make her move.”

“She’ll lose them anyway if she moves into the tunnel. It’s not like she can be carried in. She might let her husband, but she’s not budging and we don’t have time to argue. We have to get everything set for an assault on the compounds,” Azami pointed out. “In any case, we’re fairly certain Whitney doesn’t know about her pregnancy. You’ve done a good job of concealing it to the outside world.”

“I can’t believe he’s doing this,” Lily said, her eyes shimmering with tears. “He’s my father and yet he’s willing to put Daniel and me in danger just to get what he wants.”

Azami put her hand on Lily’s shoulder. “You know he isn’t the man you loved anymore, Lily. You’ve got to accept that. He’s changed, gone a little mad . . .”

“Or maybe a lot.”

Azami nodded. “The point is, once you can accept that he isn’t that man you love, you can get past this. Then he becomes the enemy and you have to see him that way. What if he’s standing between you and your child?”

Lily pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I just can’t believe that he would hurt Daniel. What would be the point?”

“Dissecting him to see what makes Daniel tick.” Azami hardened her heart. Lily had to understand the true danger. The men surrounding her buffered her from the things her father did. “Right now your husband and Sam have been left in hostile territory on Whitney’s order.” She glanced around and unbuttoned her shirt. “He did this to me when I was three. These scars were acquired before the age of three.”

She let Lily look her fill, her features twisted with horror, her eyes wide with shock. “He did that to you when you were a child?”

“My hair came in white,” Azami said. She touched her hair a little self consciously. “There’s a hell of a lot more, but the point is, pick up a gun and shoot the bastard if he gets near your son.”

Lily swallowed hard and nodded. “I’ll do what I have to do, Azami. They aren’t coming into my home and trying to steal my son, or Briony’s for that matter. I’ll defend this place.”

Azami buttoned her shirt. “Let’s get to it then. Who’s running the show?”

“Ian’s in the war room now. I’m a strong telepath so I’ll build a bridge to anyone who isn’t,” Lily said.