“Is the sniper dead?”

  It was a good question. Agamemnon had no idea if the sniper and the rest had been killed by Hector and his followers or if they’d somehow managed to escape. With the kill team in place, Agamemnon had left strict orders not to contact him. Radio silence was most important at this phase, and only Miki had the number to the cell phone he was using.

  “I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

  “I thought you were going to kill him,” Miki said.

  Agamemnon grinned. He could have lied, of course, and told Miki that the sniper was dead. But it was better to leave it an unknown variable. The thought of the sniper still breathing would help fire up Miki.

  “I can’t be sure if he lived or not. I had to come here and make sure we saw this out to its completion. Surely, you understand.”

  “I understand. But for Eduardo’s sake, I want to see that man dead.”

  “Perhaps he’s here now. In Manila. He might even be hunting you and your team as we speak.”

  Miki paused again. “How would he know where to look?”

  “He wouldn’t. But not knowing where to look wouldn’t stop a man like him. He would be duty bound to try to find you.”

  “Yes, I suppose he would.”

  Agamemnon could hear it now. The edge in Miki’s voice sliced across the airwaves and into Agamemnon’s ear. He had to nurse this a little bit more and ensure things went down as he’d envisioned them so many months ago.

  “How is our package?” he asked.

  “Looking well.”

  “You’ve inspected it?”

  “Of course.”

  “And all is ready for tomorrow?”

  Miki cleared his throat. “Absolutely. I’m sure there will be plenty of developments when the sun rises.”

  “And your accommodations?”

  “Comfortable. And protected as far as I can tell.”

  Agamemnon finished his wine and poured himself another glass. “Excellent. You should get some sleep. You have much to do in the morning.”

  “It’s a shame I won’t be there to see it when it happens,” Miki said.

  “Yes, a shame, indeed. But it will be a glorious day for us. And for the people we represent.”

  “Are you leaving?” Miki asked.

  “Of course. I’ve chosen you for this mission because you are the only one I can trust. You’ve picked out the courier for the job and I trust that you know he will not fail, that he will not have a change of heart. It’s absolutely vital that he carry this out completely.”

  Miki paused. “I’m sure he will.”

  “Because if he did have a change of heart, then this would all be for nothing. Eduardo’s death would be in vain and the infidels would win. We would become the laughingstocks of the world. The fools who couldn’t do anything right, like those bumbling idiots in Britain.”

  There was a longer pause on the phone. Agamemnon smiled and kept talking. “This is what we’ve worked for. All of our hard work comes down to this thing. And its success is our success.”

  “I understand,” Miki said.

  “You sound doubtful. You have concerns about something?”

  “I’m just thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “The courier.”

  The wine was good. Agamemnon wished he’d ordered more of it, but it wouldn’t do to be drunk when dawn broke. He had a plane to catch before the morning rush hour began.

  “If you have doubts, then we’ll need to take steps to make sure the issues are resolved,” he said.

  “I’m probably worrying too much.”

  “Is there such a thing as worrying too much when we’re talking about what we’re discussing? I don’t think so. If you have concerns, then by all means we need to deal with them,” Agamemnon said.

  “It’s just that I’m not sure our man is completely sold on the idea.”

  “He has to be!” Agamemnon was growing alarmed.

  “I think I can talk to him.”

  Agamemnon fingered the first-class plane ticket to Beijing sitting on the table. He’d heard the weather this time of year was quite nice in the Chinese countryside.

  “We’re a little beyond the whole talking thing now, don’t you think? We need doers not thinkers. That’s what it comes down to. Otherwise, that sniper wins. The Americans win. And we lose.”

  “We won’t lose,” Miki said, sounding more confident.

  “Oh?”

  “I’ll do it myself.”

  Agamemnon finished the wine and flipped the room-service menu open. A little dinner would taste good right now. But what? Perhaps some fish. That would go well with the Pinot Grigio he’d just finished. Yes, he’d have the fish. He smiled contentedly.

  “You’ll do it? Do you realize what you’re telling me? Do you know what is expected of you?” He made his voice dramatic.

  “I know exactly what I will have to do,” Miki said.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your willingness to do this will make you a hero of our cause. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  “We will sing your praises every night for many years to come, Miki. Your name will live on in legend, and Allah will reward your devotion to his cause.”

  “Inshallah.”

  “Inshallah.”

  “What time should I set out?”

  Agamemnon checked his watch. “Rush hour starts at around seven. I would expect the most people will be out and about by eight-thirty.”

  “I will start out around seven and ensure that I reach the target by then.”

  “Good.”

  “The sniper…if he lived, are you sure he would be in Manila now?”

  “Without a doubt. I have reason to believe that he discovered the nature of our mission before Eduardo died. He would be duty bound to report it to his superiors. Knowing how the Americans work, I’m sure he would be involved in the operation to stop us.”

  “Then there’s a good chance he will be nearby when I make my final quest tomorrow.”

  “A good chance indeed.”

  “That makes me happy. If I am able to kill him as I die, then all the better for all of us.”

  “His death will be your vengeance. And Eduardo will be there to greet you when you arrive in Heaven. I’m sure of it.”

  “As am I.”

  “Sleep well, Miki. And don’t forget to make your final tape. You will want your message to live on past your final act tomorrow morning.”

  “I live to serve our cause,” Miki said.

  “And you die to fulfill your destiny.”

  “Good-bye, Agamemnon.”

  “Be brave, Miki.”

  Agamemnon disconnected and looked out on the Manila night. Lights twinkled all across the city. People enjoyed their dinners and their lives not knowing that come tomorrow morning, a nuclear bomb would bring havoc, chaos and destruction to this city of fattened capitalists.

  Agamemnon grinned. He knew he was just as guilty of personal excess as any of them. But this was what it all boiled down to anyway.

  Money.

  It was the lowest common denominator in any struggle. Every war, every act of rebellion, every cause had its roots in the power of money. Somewhere, somehow, someone was getting wealthy off the work and strife of idealists and zealots.

  Agamemnon was no different.

  In an offshore bank account based in the Cayman Islands, he had the tidy sum of fifty million dollars ready to use for whatever he desired. And Agamemnon had plenty of desires. Fifty million could buy him whatever he wanted. And he had any number of places he could settle when this was all said and done.

  He cell phone purred again and he picked it up. “Yes?”

  “Is everything ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have your ticket?”

  “Right here.”

  “We are looking forward to seeing you again. You’ve been away for a very long time.”

  He thought about everything he’d endured. Plastic surgery. Years in the country learning how to speak the language fluently. Crash courses in human psychology. Weapons, leadership, demolitions and then the small matter of procuring the nuclear device.

  It hadn’t been easy.

  “I’m looking forward to going home,” he said.

  “You’ll be a hero upon your return.”

  “As long as nothing delays the flight.”

  “Nothing will.”

  “This isn’t going to be a safe place come tomorrow morning.”

  “That is why we’re getting you out at five o’clock in the morning. Can you be at the airport then?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Excellent. Payment has been made as promised.”

  “It pains me I won’t be able to stay home for long.”

  “You’ll be hunted all over the world.”

  Agamemnon grinned. “At least until the man called Agamemnon dies. Then I’ll be safe at last.”

  “Another face?” the voice asked.

  “It’s the only way.”

  “You have a doctor in mind?”

  Agamemnon ran his hand over his face. “The one in Panama. He did good work before. I think he might be a good choice for my next identity.”

  “He’ll be a loose end.”

  “Only until he’s done with my face. Then he’ll cease to be a problem. Like all of the others.”

  “Have a safe flight.”

  Agamemnon shut his phone and stared out of the window. Perhaps he would order one more bottle of wine. He was in a celebratory mood.

  38

  Annja watched Vic as he pored over the various reports that were coming in from all over the city. Most of them were meaningless, and Vic had the task of deciding which ones should be taken seriously.

  He looked exhausted. As the clock on the wall marked three o’clock in the morning, Annja poured a fresh cup of coffee and brought it to him.

  He looked up and smiled. “Thanks.”

  “You having any luck with this stuff?” she asked.

  He took a swallow of the coffee and shook his head. “Not very much, no. It’s all a mass of paperwork, but very little else.”

  “There’s got to be something, though, doesn’t there? Some little shred of information you’re not seeing?”

  “That’s exactly what is most frustrating. The feeling that I haven’t seen something I should have seen. That and that damned clock ticking away.”

  “You’re sure it’ll be today?” she asked.

  Vic frowned. “Yeah. We have to figure they’ll try and set it off during the rush hour—either morning, or afternoon. That’s when the city core will be filled with the most people. And that’s exactly what they’re after—maximum casualties.”

  “All those poor innocent people. Men, women, babies even. They just don’t care, do they?” Annja said.

  Vic shrugged. “I’m not exactly feeling like I could accurately explain how their minds work. All I care about right now is stopping them. If I fail, I’m probably going to die, as well. We are at ground zero, after all.”

  Annja smiled. “Yep.”

  “You should leave,” he said.

  She looked at him. “You keep trying to get rid of me. Haven’t you learned yet that I’m an extremely stubborn woman?”

  Vic leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the table. “I know you are. It’s part of your charm.”

  “My charm?”

  “Your allure.”

  “I can accept that,” she said, laughing.

  “When we get through this,” Vic said, waving his hand, “I’m going to take you out for a really good dinner.”

  “I’d like that.” Annja watched him as he closed his eyes. “You never told me how you’re able to reconcile what you do for a living,” she said.

  His eyes opened again. “You sure you want to kill the mood?”

  Annja shrugged. “We’re in the bowels of the United States Embassy. I’d say the mood’s already been pretty well spoiled. This place doesn’t exactly rate on the list of the most romantic places on earth.”

  Vic slid his feet off the table and took another drink of the coffee. “What the hell, right?”

  She waited for him to start, watching as the memories seemed to crawl across his face.

  “I was just out of sniper training. I’d been in special operations for a while. I’d seen some combat in a few places that were so far off the books they’ll never even be discussed. But being a sniper’s different. The combat is different.

  “When you’re in a unit, you have guys backing you up. You depend on each other. You know your buddy has your back and you have his. There’s a sense of duty. You won’t let anyone kill your pal and vice versa. That drives you, that bond of brotherhood. It makes it easy to do things that you might otherwise find unacceptable.”

  He polished off the cup of coffee Annja had brought him and crushed the cup in his hand. “Being a sniper is something else entirely. There’s no unit. It’s just you. You work alone. You’ve got your rifle and your wits. That’s it.

  “The first time in the bush, it’s like all your worst nightmares come true. You jump at every sound, your heart thunders so much you swear people can hear you coming. They can’t, of course, but that’s what you believe. Until you learn to handle your fear, you’re not one hundred percent. And that’s a liability.

  “I got my first mission profile about six years back. I was assigned to South America at the time. We still had a lot of drug activity down there and the administration wanted some solutions. Permanent solutions, if you please.” He stopped and looked at her with a sad smile.

  “What happened?” Annja asked.

  “I got dropped via chopper into Bolivia and made my way cross-country to a remote mountainside. I holed up there, living on hard routine for three weeks. Eventually, my target drove up to his vacation compound about a mile away from where I was, as the crow flies.”

  Vic closed his eyes, probably seeing the whole thing all over again. “I watched that guy for two days. I learned everything about him. That’s what it’s like being a sniper. It’s close. Personal. You see your target like no one else. I watched that guy burp and fart and wink and smile. He was someone. Not just a target.”

  “That must have made it tough to kill him,” Annja said.

  Vic opened his eyes and looked at her. “That made it impossible to kill him. Until it was too late.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean when I finally had my crosshairs on his head, I couldn’t take the shot. I let him get in his car and drive away.”

  “You missed?”

  “I never shot my rifle. I never lived up to my mission parameters.”

  “Well, you couldn’t really be blamed, could you? It was your first assignment, after all,” she said.

  Vic shook his head. “I’ve blamed myself every day since then, Annja. Every day that I wake up, I see that guy’s face in my head. And I know that I screwed up.”

  “You can’t ride yourself forever, though,” she said.

  “I already have. You know what the target did after he left his vacation home? He drove to the house of a government official who’d been making trouble for the drug cartels. He killed him there.”

  Annja frowned. “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s not the worst of it. The worst part is that this official’s son was having a birthday party. This beautiful eight-year-old boy and all of his friends were having the time of their lives playing. And this guy walks in and kills not just the official but every child in attendance. It was a bloodbath.”

  Annja felt her throat grow tight. “My God.”

  “You ask me how I reconcile what I do? I don’t have to reconcile anything. I have the memory of my failure always fresh in my mind when I go out and take down a target. If I hadn’t frozen, if I’d done what I was trained to do that day back in Bolivia, those children might still be alive. They might be in high school now. They might have girlfriends and boyfriends. One of them might have discovered a cure for cancer. Instead, they’re dead because I couldn’t pull the trigger and end the life of a truly heinous piece of garbage.”

  Annja heard the ticking of the clock and nothing else. She felt as if the world had stopped turning. Vic’s eyes bore into hers with such intensity, she found it difficult to return his gaze.

  He took a calming breath and looked away. “Sorry.”

  Annja placed her hand over his. “No. I should be the one apologizing for bringing it up. I shouldn’t have forced you to relive something like that. It was inconsiderate of me to do so.”

  “You didn’t know. Don’t worry about it,” he said.

  Annja leaned back. “Did you ever get him?”

  Vic nodded. “When I found out what had happened because of my incompetence, I went into the bush and stalked him. It took me four weeks to get close to him again. But this time, I didn’t hesitate. I put a bullet right through his temple and dropped him dead.”

  “At least you made sure he never lived to do more damage,” Annja said.

  “He’d done more than enough already,” Vic said. “But it was closure of a sort. I could sleep again after that. The memories, though, they don’t go away. I don’t know if they ever will.”

  Annja slid her hands behind her head and sighed. “And now you stalk a new target.”

  “Yeah. And time’s ticking away.”

  The door opened and an analyst walked into the room. “Gutierrez?”

  “Yeah?”

  The analyst handed him a slip of paper. “Just got a report in from one of our assets in the Chinese embassy.”

  Vic read the transcript and frowned.

  “What is it?” Annja asked.

  “The Chinese ambassador has left Manila.”

  “Is that unusual?”

  Vic shrugged. Ordinarily, maybe not. But given what’s coming, it looks a little suspicious.”

  “You think the Chinese are involved in this?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Annja frowned. “What would they have to gain from nuking Manila? That doesn’t make any sense. They’d be outcasts at the United Nations, and the whole world would ostracize them.”

  Vic shrugged. “Ours is not to reason why. Ours is simply to figure out and stop things from taking place.”