“So, why would Blankenship and McHenry be so brazen about supporting China?” I asked.

  “Remember, they were high-paid consultants for several years. Once the media laid off China because of prior U.S. political connections, it was open season. McHenry and Blankenship own tens of millions in stock in Chinese Communist Party construction companies, telecom companies, and technology companies. As far as we know, China told them this is just a legit construction job in the desert and that their portfolios would benefit hugely. That’s best case. Worst case? They know about all of this,” McCool explained.

  “In which case, we’re screwed. Not only will we not get any support, but they’ll come after us and actively deny our efforts to stop the Chinese plan. Maybe with U.S. or allied forces.”

  “Yes, sir, and with the help of the biggest technology companies in the world who all benefit from an ascendant China,” McCool said. “If they’re crooked enough to get this far, they’ll go all the way to avoid any exposure. Total empire.”

  “Any idea of their targets on these hypersonic nukes floating around out there?”

  “Sly’s research showed Washington, D.C., of course—”

  “Well, we’re not opposed to that,” Van Dreeves said.

  “Of course not, but they also have New York City, Chicago, Paris, and London.”

  “No joy from the French or British militaries on this?” I asked.

  “Too sensitive to tell them. As far as we know, the only people that know the true reason we’re here are us and the president. Not even Jorge and my crew know the truth.”

  I nodded, thinking. Why did everything always come down to money? Political infighting had left American society so stripped of its constitutional moorings that maybe self-preservation was the only thing that mattered to most people anymore. Basic math tells us that if we continually divide, we end up with smaller and smaller subunits until we’re nothing more than millions of shards of shattered glass on the floor. That was essentially where we were. Every person for themselves. Not so much survival of the fittest but survival of those with access to power, which ultimately came down to politics. I wondered what President Campbell thought of this pervasive societal ill. She was no stranger to controversy or political self-preservation, and I liked to think she believed in the country and the future we all wanted for her citizens, though that was a naive concept with today’s evolving definitions of nationalism, freedom, and self-determination.

  The world had gone mad.

  As if to prove the point, Van Dreeves said, “Boss?”

  He held out a small, ruggedized tablet he had connected to a virtual private network that communicated with our secure low-earth-orbit satellite.

  On the screen was the headline:

  Special Forces General Accused of Murdering Secretary of State Gone AWOL, Hid Gold Find, Anonymous Source Says

  “They’ve made their play,” I said, realizing that their goal was to get my picture out there and to sever what little support we had remaining.

  We fell silent as helicopters buzzed past the cave mouth.

  29

  MALIK WATCHED SANSON SHOUT like a madman and emit a high-pitched wail.

  “Garrett Sinclair rescued Zoey Morgan again?!”

  Sanson began swooshing his saber through the air like a martial artist practicing lunges and thrusts. His arm was bleeding. A red stain was a starburst on his left sleeve.

  Malik stepped back and dodged the slicing blade, tripping over a rock and rolling away as if he were the target.

  “Her stupid, dead father started it all, Malik!” he shouted. His voice rang across the desert floor. “He was there in Dakhla spying on his own people. And on me and the Chinese, of course. We had been so careful. Gambeau had bought off the Moroccans. The Americans were useful idiots. That was it. It was simple.”

  Malik’s thought was that Sanson would only tell him this information if he was going to kill him later. That was the only way this could work. Malik’s job was to run the caravan and the dig sites, but how difficult was that to do? He possessed no real talents beyond having a host of connections and being able to take command of the crew. He ran a tight ship, and the dig was producing gold.

  Sanson was a whirling dervish, spinning wildly and slashing with his toy.

  “You have the gold, Sanson. You have your mission here,” Malik said, figuring it would be good to remind him.

  The saber cut through the air again, close to his face.

  “That’s right! I have the gold,” Sanson said.

  “You have the gold,” Malik reaffirmed. “And you have the history.”

  The blade was high above Sanson’s head as he slowed his spin. Sanson stared at Malik.

  “I have the history,” he said.

  “You have the history of this,” Malik said, waving his arm across the dark desert. “The Eye of Africa is yours for eternity.”

  “Eternity,” Sanson said. He lowered the sword.

  “We should rest. I’m told they found more gold,” Malik said.

  “Rest,” Sanson replied. His eyes stared into the distance.

  “Let’s go back to the tent,” Malik said. “I must wash your wound.”

  Sanson looked at his left sleeve, as if noticing for the first time that he had been shot. They walked to Sanson’s tent where Malik washed and bandaged the glancing blow that had backed him away from killing Zoey Morgan.

  “We must stop them,” Sanson said. “They know about this location and will return.”

  This was a point that Malik didn’t want to debate. “Yes. We can move. How does your arm feel?”

  “It’s fine. How did the American general get into our base camp?”

  Malik swallowed, unsure. He packed the medical supplies away, then said, “He arrived in a truck that had been stolen from Amina and Binth al Asman. Perhaps he used the GPS.”

  “How did you get your injuries, Malik?”

  “I was involved in an accident yesterday. I will be fine.”

  But nothing was fine. Sanson was suspicious. He nodded, which was worse than him asking a follow-up question.

  “We will find more gold. We will discover Atlantis. And we will complete my mission for Gambeau. If you want to live, Malik, you will help me. I’ve never threatened you before. I’ve come to like you and depend on you, but do not mistake my affection for weakness. You will do as I say and be loyal. Understand?”

  “Anything, Sanson.”

  “‘Anything’ is right.”

  They went back to the tent, where Sanson lifted a phone to his ear and said, “Gambeau.” Then he walked into the darkness where Malik could not hear him.

  30

  “TWO BOGIES AT SIX o’clock,” Farouk said.

  His voice crackled over Van Dreeves’s tablet. We stared at the device, waiting for the follow-up report. We were skilled in the art of tactical patience, knowing not to fill the vulnerable airwaves with unnecessary chatter. If he had a follow-up report, he would provide it. Which he did.

  “Charlie Mike,” he whispered.

  Continue the mission. Van Dreeves pressed the Transmit button on the microphone to signal that his report was received.

  “We’re not dropping a JDAM or JSOC on this because there are suspicions that in addition to the secretaries of state and defense, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs and the SOCOM commander are compromised by the Chinese government as well,” I said. “What Sly uncovered showed that maybe General Luckey and the chairman were in on the Dakhla Accords.”

  “Which means it’s just us,” McCool said. It was a statement, not a question.

  “It’s always been just us,” I said. “Even when it seemed we had the entire nation behind us. Nobody has been doing what we’re doing. Look around. Do you see anyone new or different from the last times we’ve been in combat?”

  “Zoey,” McCool said, nodding at Sly’s daughter, who was sleeping on Hobart’s chest now. “Farouk.”

  “Zoey was running Operation Tubman to get amcits and women out of Afghanistan,” I said.

  “I know. She’s a great addition. We just need to make sure everyone knows their roles and responsibilities. Nothing easy about this mission. We’ve employed enough misdirection to get to this point. If Blankenship and McHenry are behind the media leaks, you know the Chinese have been warned. Their reconnaissance is going to increase. Those helicopters are searching for us, most likely. If Big Tech is involved, they’ve got facial recognition for all of us. We’re dancing on the head of a pin here.”

  “Boss?” Hobart said, speaking for the first time this morning.

  “Yes, Joe?”

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. There’s at least a battalion of Chinese infantry roaming around out here undeterred. They’ve got attack helicopters. They’ve got our government in the bag. They’ve got the best technology in the world. Look at us. We’re good and we will win and succeed, but at what cost?”

  Hobart was not known for long, extemporaneous speeches, and seven sentences was a significant oration for him. Perhaps it was the presence of Zoey, the woman he loved, that gave rise to his first-ever stated concerns about a mission. Certainly, he had opined on the tactical execution points important to succeed on previous operations, but never had he in general debated the overall purpose or efficacy of executing a task. He opened his palm and slowly swung his arm around the cave. Three men, three women, all in varying degrees of preparedness and disarray. Zoey huddled with him. He looked as drawn and worried as I’d ever seen. McCool was doing her best to remain focused on execution, but away from the Beast, I was sure she felt hamstrung. Like a quarterback playing wide receiver, she could still score, but she had to use other skills. Van Dreeves, ever the optimist and chatterbox, was focused. He was poring over the maps and imagery at one moment, and the next he was looking each team member in the eyes, assessing their status. Then there was the enigma that was Champollion. In the soft, filtered light leaking into the cave, she was a beautiful woman. She removed her Australian bush hat and ran a hand through her dusty brown hair. Her blue eyes reflected a quick intelligence with their penetrating gaze and associated nods and hand gestures.

  “I hear you,” I said. “The president has trusted us to follow through on this. Given everything they’re coming after me with, this could be our last mission together. I feel about each of you the same way I feel about my children, about Melissa. You’re family. That’s why I asked if everyone was in when we were in Dakhla.”

  “Wait,” McCool protested. “What do you mean by this is our last mission?”

  “As you know, I’m under inspector general investigation. There may be criminal referrals. My stock is down, and I can’t continue to lead Dagger and JSOC beyond this mission. You saw the news articles. They’re gunning for me. Making me an enemy of the state. After this, there will be no future for me regardless of what happens. It has been a long time coming. I’m not sorry for anything that happened—we’ve had a good run—but there is no future with me. I’m not going to be promoted. I’ll be lucky to keep the rank I have. People think I’m a cowboy for being out front with all of you instead of eating grapes and fanning myself in HQ.”

  “You’re the only one with the balls to be here, boss,” Hobart said. “I wasn’t trying to start some debate. It’s just … things are more in focus for me right now.”

  “I know, Joe. And I know this is your way of telling us openly about Zoey and you, something, by the way, we’ve all known for the last year.”

  “Yeah, congrats, bro,” Van Dreeves said.

  “Shall we discuss you and Sally, Randy?”

  Van Dreeves flashed that surfer-boy grin and said, “We ain’t hiding shit, boss.”

  McCool rolled her eyes. “What is this, Peyton Place or an objective rally point?”

  “Just don’t expect me to snuggle with Farouk,” I said, which prompted a rare moment of levity that we all needed, but they did cast a quick glance at Champollion. I did love these people. They were who I had chosen to navigate life with, in addition to my family. I couldn’t have asked for a better team. Life is about chances and choices, and every step of the way when I had the chance to add one of these people to my inner circle, I made the choice to do so. They were good decisions.

  “General finally gets a sense of humor,” McCool said.

  “He’s a funny guy,” Zoey said. She had woken up at the laughter and straightened up while still pressing up against Hobart.

  “Joe, I hear you. We could ask ourselves, especially after Afghanistan, is this, or anything worth it? So, let’s have that conversation. We can’t move until nighttime, anyway. China has five hypersonic nuclear vehicles in orbit right now burning very little fuel. They’re being used as a blackmail tool against our government. Either give them what they want—ports on the west coast of Africa, infrastructure deals in the United States, access to our national security apparatus—or they launch the vessels onto targets in the U.S. and Europe. Nothing is stopping them from putting more in orbit. The only thing stopping them from attacking is that they haven’t built this laser yet that can range the low-earth-orbit satellites and, using mirrors, reflect the beam to guide the nuke to a specific target. It does them some, but not much, good to miss by thirty miles or so. Politicians won’t much care unless they feel personally threatened.”

  Everyone was nodding, paying rapt attention. More helicopters buzzed in the distance. McCool had passed around some combat rations, which were being opened and consumed. I took another pull of water.

  “Our objective is to disable the GLINTS, what Sly referenced as a global intermediate nuclear targeting station, and destroy the Chinese capabilities here in the desert.”

  “Can’t they just reconstitute that capability elsewhere, if they don’t already have a backup system yet, especially if what Farouk and Evelyn say is true about Big Tech being involved?” Van Dreeves asked. Hobart nodded.

  “They can and they could, but we have no intelligence that indicates any such plan or capability. Sly’s research shows that this part of the Sahara, the Eye of Africa, uniquely positions China to attack the Western Hemisphere. They put these hypersonic missiles in orbit because someone—probably Blankenship or McHenry—told them that President Campbell was not going to cave to Chinese pressure on trade, Taiwan, Hong Kong, North Korea, West Africa, or any of the other areas they’re pressing on internationally. The Chinese probably don’t trust the tech moguls enough yet to rely upon them for any substantial backup. It could be a case of self-imposed prisoner’s dilemma—no one knows what the other is going to say, so they’re holding back. China is driving the change through action, which is their strong suit. Diplomacy has never been their thing.”

  “So, what we’re doing has a chance of keeping us safe. Keeping our families together. Protecting us from Chinese intervention in our way of life,” Hobart said. A statement, not a question. He’d seen the full circle of logic. The threats we were facing on a tactical micro level, which could include some of us not returning to enjoy the freedoms we secure, were necessary to have something to return to. Zoey’s presence highlighted to him, and all of us, the very real trade-offs and sacrifices we made in pursuit of higher ideals. It wasn’t often that there was a tangible reminder of both sides of the dilemma directly in front of us. Should we risk everything we have? If we don’t, will we have anything worth living for? To most people, freedom is an abstract concept until, like oxygen, you don’t have it anymore; when you can’t breathe, you crave it. We had been fighting for freedom for so many years and even we had to remind ourselves of its shelf life and what could happen if it were to vanish from our society.

  “We all good?” I asked. “Look me in the eyes, team.”

  I locked eyes with Van Dreeves, who nodded and flashed me a thumbs-up. Zoey vigorously nodded. Hobart nodded once, keeping his gaze locked with mine. He had simmered some, but not much. McCool looked at me and said, “We’re all good, boss. Talking sometimes helps.”

  I met Evelyn Champollion’s gaze, and I saw something there I didn’t recognize at first. Her countenance had changed from pensive to sympathetic. Her eyes opened wider, receiving and giving at once. Her cheeks had softened. The longer I stared at her, the flusher her face became. She crossed her arms in a defensive pose and dropped her chin, breaking her gaze. I turned to my team, who were all alternatively staring at me and Champollion, like a tennis match.

  “It does. I agree. Now let’s go over the plan. We execute tonight,” I said.

  31

  PRESIDENT CAMPBELL SAT IN Air Force One on the ramp of Joint Base Andrews in Maryland. A sleet storm arrived more quickly than expected, so she was jotting thoughts on a piece of White House stationery and looking pensively out the porthole window. The Alexa camera caught a flattering image of her in repose, hand tucked under her chin as she contemplated the weight of her decisions made and to be made. Her blond hair was tucked behind her ears dotted with simple diamond earrings. A matching necklace hung atop a modest light blue blouse. Her blazer hung over the chair next to her.

  “Madam President, Director Bertrand is here to see you,” her assistant announced by leaning her head in the cabin.

  Campbell nodded, and Bertrand entered the small office. He was wearing a navy suit with pinstripes over a white shirt and teal Hermès tie.

  “Madam President, are we going somewhere or just camping on the runway?”

  She smiled with her lips pressed together, almost a grimace. “Let’s chat, shall we?”

  “I work for you,” he said.

  “What is your honest assessment of the Chinese hypersonic missiles? Is it a bluff, or is it real?”

  “The missiles are real. Their intent is difficult to ascertain. My deputy is speaking with my counterpart’s deputy in China. Apparently, the first one reenters the atmosphere to strike an unnamed target tonight if we don’t acquiesce to certain demands. My own back-channel sources tell me that what they’re asking for is access to quantum computing codes, which of course is the key to quantum communications. If they lock down that edge, they’ll be able to hack anything anywhere—our nuclear codes or your email and everything in between while having the securest network ever. We have the edge now, but they’re not far behind.”