“We can use the day it takes to contact her to get our gear together, pick an extraction point, and figure out where we’re going to stage from. Once we’re in Kuwait, we’ll need a cover story.”

  “I’ve been scuba diving in Kuwait,” Selena said. “It’s a big part of the tourist industry. There are beautiful coral reefs, good hotels. It’s perfect cover. We can rent a zodiac without arousing suspicion.”

  “All right, that’s good. A day for prep here. Another day to go to Kuwait. A third day to set up for the extraction and act like tourists. With a little luck, she could be ready for us on the Iranian side by then.”

  “So, three days?” Elizabeth asked.

  “We can be ready for her in three, but there are too many unknown factors to promise we can get her out that fast. A lot depends on her. She’ll have to take some risks.”

  “If they catch on she’s defecting, it’s game over,” Ronnie said.

  “Better hope they don’t. If they figure it out, they could use her as bait.”

  “Bait?” Valentina said.

  “To see who comes to get her. They might be waiting for us.”

  “This would not be good.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “What is funny?”

  “I think you just took Nick’s place as the master of understatement,” Elizabeth said.

  Chapter 5

  In a restricted research facility outside Tehran, Jahleh Kezri came to work early. She wanted to get a start on the day. Her hijab surrounded her face and covered all of her hair, blending in with the plain, dark-colored outfit she habitually wore. Her dress reached all the way to her ankles, the sleeves of her shirt to her wrists. It was important to appear totally correct and obedient to the numerous laws governing the behavior of women. There could be no hint anything was amiss. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if her watchers discovered she’d contacted the Americans.

  Kezri paused at the security desk and waited for a retinal scan to verify her identity. Two hard looking guards armed with submachine guns stood nearby, watching her. When the scan was complete, a pair of glass doors hissed open and she entered her domain.

  She walked down a long corridor to her office, sat at her desk, and turned on her computer. She entered her password and was connected to a Russian NDMC supercomputer in the basement.

  Doctor Jahleh Kezri had been born with the kind of rare intelligence that leads to great discoveries. Even in a culture relegating women to secondary status, her brilliance and uniqueness had been recognized. She’d ended up specializing in the expanding field of neuroscience, where she’d demonstrated remarkable abilities. Eventually she’d risen to her present important role. Because of her privileged position, she had access to all the latest world research in her field, much of it classified.

  There was plenty of that. Russia, America, China, and India were all heavily invested. Only governments could afford the massive expenditures needed for the technology required.

  Neuroscience held enormous potential to improve the human condition, although that wasn’t why governments were pouring money into the research. Scientific knowledge was a two edged sword. Research to improve the quality of human life was often used to the opposite effect. What determined how a discovery was applied depended on the nature of the people who controlled it. That, and how much money it might bring in.

  Jahleh had a deep and abiding faith in the infinite love of Allah, but Allah’s love had nothing to do with what was being planned in Iran for her life’s work. Her research was being turned into a murderous weapon. She’d spent many restless nights, tossing and turning, wondering how to stop it. In the end she’d decided the only way was to defect to the West, and hope someone there would take action.

  To a casual observer Jahleh Kezri was a shining example of how a woman could succeed, even in a rigid society like the Islamic Republic. She was driven to and from work by an armed guard, a sign of her important status. She lived in a spacious apartment equipped with all the luxuries taken for granted in the West, but not usually available to the average Iranian citizen. She had a stunning view of the majestic mountains north of the city. But her building was guarded around the clock. Her driver reported on everything she said or did. Even though her watchers kept their distance, she lived in a velvet prison. She was too important to be allowed a normal life.

  She had been watched for so long that the surveillance had become routine. There was nothing in her behavior to indicate anything but dedication to her work and loyalty to the regime. The fact that she had never married and never had a serious relationship was another reason surveillance had become lax. A chaste woman was respected in Iran, although it didn’t stop her male colleagues from making unflattering remarks about her behind her back.

  Jahleh was thirty-seven years old. Her lack of an intimate relationship was due less to desire than circumstance. Her formidable intellect scared away potential suitors. The right person had never appeared. She’d accepted the possibility the right person never would.

  She logged onto her email and began working through the messages. She came to one inviting her to speak at a scientific conference. It was going to be held in Bushehr, a city on the Gulf. The organizers wanted her to give a talk on functional neuroimaging and genetics.

  The message set her heart thumping. It wasn’t the thought of speaking on one of her areas of expertise that triggered her, it was the wording of the invitation. It included a code phrase that told her the Americans were ready to get her out. How they’d managed the invitation, she didn’t know or care. All that mattered was that they had.

  There would be no problem getting permission to go to the conference. The speakers included noted scientists from Iran, Russia, China, and India. Neuroscience was recognized as an important discipline. It would be perfectly natural for her to attend. A bonus would be the attention given to Iran as a leader in the field.

  Her boss was always looking for ways to increase the prestige of his department. With prestige came more funding. He would jump at the chance to send her. The aftermath of her defection would cause him serious problems. He would probably be removed from his post. She thought of his arrogance, his patronizing attitude toward her. Somehow she couldn’t feel any remorse for whatever consequences came to him.

  With that pleasant thought, she composed a memo to her boss and attached the email, requesting permission to attend.

  She replied to the email, accepting the invitation.

  Soon I’ll be free, she thought.

  Chapter 6

  Nick leaned back with his eyes closed, lulled by the low murmur of the engines and the soft leather of the Gulfstream V carrying them to Kuwait. They’d left Washington as the sun was setting. It was six and a half thousand miles to Kuwait. The plane had enough fuel capacity to make the flight nonstop, but without a margin for error or unforeseen circumstances. They’d made a stop in Spain to take on fuel. Now they were on the last leg of the journey.

  Before they left, Harker told him Kezri would be staying at a hotel across the Gulf from Kuwait, in the Iranian city of Bushehr. She’d handed him a folder with pictures of the hotel and satellite photos of the surrounding area. He was looking at the folder, thinking about the mission, picturing the steps he would have to take

  Random images drifted across his mind. He thought of the guns and stun grenades stowed in the spacious luggage compartment under his feet, tools of war as familiar to him as the back of his hand. It seemed like he was always going someplace where guns were needed. He’d been here too many times before.

  Not for the first time, he found himself wondering what the point of it all was. All the missions he’d been on, all those times when he was at the sharp tip of a spear aimed at people who wanted to turn the world into their private charnel house. What difference had he made? What difference did any of it make?

  You took down one bad guy and three more took his place. It was like playing whack a mole with crazies who popped up out of nowhere and did their best to kill you. There were always more of them waiting. There had to be something more than this to his life, something to give it meaning.

  In the beginning, he’d found meaning in fighting for what he thought was right. Meaning in the company of warriors, the physical challenge, the brotherhood of the Corps, the idea that what he was doing was making his country and the world a safer place.

  Most of the idealism disappeared during his first combat tour. It hadn’t taken long to realize that the only thing that mattered was his responsibility for the men he led, his Marines. He developed a hard shell that kept him alive in situations no one should ever have to experience. It helped him deal with his anger when commanders and politicians made stupid decisions that got people killed for no good reason.

  He’d been recovering from wounds at Bethesda and wondering if he should stay in the Corps, when Harker had recruited him for the Project. It had seemed like a new start. Then he’d met Selena. Circumstances tossed them into a crucible of shared danger and survival that forged their relationship into an indestructible bond.

  For a while, his relationship with her had helped provide a sense of meaning. He had friends, work, respect, a beautiful woman who loved him, two amazing children. Most would think he had everything.

  So why did he feel like something was missing?

  He thought about the team, his friends, his comrades. Nick had known Ronnie a long time. Ronnie was still solid as a rock, but Nick could see age beginning to catch up with him. Hell, it was catching up with everybody, himself included.

  He had a feeling something was going on with Lamont, maybe something physical. He wasn’t sure what it was. Lamont was the kind of person who covered who he was with humor and a smartass joke. With Lamont, the waters ran deep.

  Selena’s reaction to this mission had surprised him. The last couple of times Harker had sent them off somewhere, Selena had said she wanted to stop going on assignments like this. She’d said she wanted to stay home and be with the twins. He’d expected her to put up an argument against going this time, but she’d never said a word. Instead, she’d made it clear she was in it all the way.

  Maybe it was because the mission was about getting Kezri out of Iran and out of danger, something to do with universal sisterhood. Maybe it was her old need for a periodic adrenaline fix. Whatever it was, Nick was glad she was along, but he wasn’t happy about her going to Iran. It was true her knowledge of Farsi was invaluable. The problem was that if they had to use her language skills, they’d probably be in serious trouble.

  He drifted deeper, until his thoughts turned into random images dancing across his inner vision. The unfamiliar face of a man floated up before him. His hair was thick and gray, hanging down in waves to his shoulders. His skin was dark and weathered, his nose large. He wore a dark robe with a hood. His expression was intense. The man’s eyes seemed to bore into him.

  Wake up!

  Nick jolted awake, the words echoing in his mind. He looked around. Selena was reading something. Ronnie and Lamont were sleeping. Valentina was leafing through a magazine. No one was paying any attention to him.

  Just a dream, he thought. Weird.

  For the rest of the flight he kept coming back to the face in the dream.

  They landed at Kuwait International Airport without incident. The Gulfstream taxied past the main terminal to a secured area reserved for diplomats and the private aircraft of the wealthy. The copilot emerged from the flight deck, opened the outer door, and lowered the stairway. Dry, hot air that smelled of dust and jet fuel swept into the cabin.

  A man wearing a neat beard, a long white cotton robe, and a white head covering stood with his hands clasped behind his back, waiting for them. He had a hard look about him. A cart pulling a baggage wagon pulled up to the plane.

  “There’s our contact,” Nick said. “He’s probably KSS.”

  “KSS?” Valentina asked.

  “Kuwait Security Service. Their main intelligence agency.”

  Selena took a silk scarf from her purse and arranged it over her hair.

  “You going to walk two steps behind Nick?” Lamont said.

  “Don’t be a jerk,” Selena said. “This is a Muslim country. We don’t want to stand out more than we already do.”

  “She’s right, Lamont,” Nick said. “Selena and Val need to cover their hair.”

  “All right, Nick,” Valentina said. “If you say so. But I do not like it.”

  “It could be worse,” Ronnie said. “We could be in Afghanistan. Then you’d be wearing a tent.”

  Chapter 7

  The dry, desert heat was well over a hundred degrees. After the air-conditioned comfort of the plane, it felt like a physical blow. The Kuwaiti touched his hand to his heart and made a slight bow.

  “Welcome to Kuwait. I am Fahad Al-Azmi. I will escort you through customs and take you wherever you need to go.”

  “Thank you. I’m Nick Carter. We’ve booked rooms at the Hilton Kuwait.”

  Two baggage handlers began taking bags and scuba gear out of the luggage compartment. The last thing they reached for was an aluminum case that contained the team’s weapons.

  Al-Azmi said something in Arabic and the men stopped. He turned to Nick.

  “I’m afraid that will have to stay on the plane.”

  Nick took a breath. “My understanding is that we have clearance for what’s inside that case.”

  “I am truly sorry, Mister Carter, but we cannot allow the possibility of an incident with our Iranian neighbors.”

  “You know why we are here?”

  “In a general sense. I do not know the specifics. I have been instructed to tell you that any attempt to enter Iranian territory will be seen as a violation of our hospitality and will result in immediate deportation. However, I see that you have brought scuba gear with you. You are free to explore our beautiful islands and the exquisite coral reefs.”

  “I see,” Nick said.

  “I thought you might,” Al-Azmi said. “May I have your passports?”

  They handed them over.

  “Please follow me.”

  Al-Azmi had a brief conversation with the guard in the customs booth. A few moments later they were through. Al-Azmi led them to a white Land Rover.

  “We have provided this vehicle for you. It has GPS to guide you. Simply tell it your destination.”

  He handed Nick a business card.

  “My private number is listed on the back. Please do not hesitate to call me if you require assistance. May I ask how long you intend to stay?”

  “We’ve booked rooms for a week,” Nick said. “We may stay longer, depending on the diving.”

  “I think a week will be sufficient,” Al-Azmi said.

  The way he said it was more than a comment. They got into the Land Rover and left the airport for the hotel.

  Selena had booked the best accommodations possible, something she loved to do. She could afford it. This time, she’d chosen a four bedroom villa with a private pool looking out over the Gulf. The villa had every convenience. Two floors, a balcony, a full kitchen and all the amenities.

  After the hotel bellhop had delivered their bags and left, they looked around.

  “Nice digs,” Lamont said.

  He walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. It contained an assortment of fruit juices, water, and snacks.

  “No beer. Figures.”

  “There’s no alcohol allowed here,” Nick said. “Pick your rooms and get settled in. We’ll meet in the living area,” Nick said.

  Selena and Nick’s room was on the second floor. It had a wide balcony and an unobstructed view over the Gulf. The water was a cloudy green, the sky a clear, brilliant blue. Surf broke on the beach below the villa, steady, soothing. It was a beautiful setting, a perfect spot to relax.

  “One of these days we ought to come to a place like this for a vacation,” Selena said.

  “Vacation? What’s that?”

  “It’s been a long time since we went somewhere just for the heck of it.”

  “I hear you. Tell you what, when this is done, let’s go somewhere. We’ll take the monsters and Anna. Somewhere on the water. Hawaii?”

  “Hawaii’s always nice. Or maybe the Caribbean?”

  “Last time we were down there wasn’t much fun,” he said.

  “Then Hawaii it is. What do you think about our Kuwaiti minder?”

  “I think he’s under orders. Let’s go downstairs and we’ll talk it over.”

  The corner living area featured window walls looking out over the pool and the Gulf. Two comfortable couches flanked a low, ebony coffee table. A 60 inch TV faced the couches. The floor was of exotic, polished wood.

  The team made themselves comfortable on the couches.

  “I thought Hood had cleared everything for us,” Ronnie said.

  “Somebody’s worried we’re going to kick up a shit storm,” Nick said.

  “Hell, you can’t blame them,” Lamont said. “They’re probably right.”

  Nick held up his hand and took out an electronic sweeper. It looked like a large cell phone with an antenna. They’d all seen it before. Nick began to walk around the room, searching for listening devices that might have been planted by the security service. The others made small talk.

  “The diving should be wonderful here,” Selena said.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Lamont said.

  Nick shut down the sweeper.

  “All clear. You notice Al-Azmi didn’t search us. Lay out what you’ve got on the table.”

  Nick pulled up his pants leg, revealing an ankle holster. He took out a 9mm compact pistol and put it on the table. Lamont and Ronnie produced pistols and placed them next to his. Valentina had a holster concealed in her bra. She put a .380 on the table.

  “Mine is upstairs in my bag,” Selena said.

  “Okay,” Nick said. “Five pistols plus magazines. Maybe eighty rounds.”

  “This is not very much, I think,” Valentina said.