Within a minute, he started coughing. He just sort of sank down to his knees. Then he was on all fours, coughing. I have something in my lungs, he said. I cant get it out. He started gasping for air. The sound was horrible.

Ezatullah walked up and shot him in the back of the head.

Believe me, I did him a favor, hed said.

Now, the van was passing through a tunnel. The tunnel was long and narrow and dark, with orange lights zooming by overhead. The lights made Eldrick dizzy.

I have to get out of this van! he shouted. I have to get out of this van! I have to…

Ezatullah turned around. His gun was out. He pointed it at Eldricks head.

Quiet! Im on the phone.

Ezatullahs sliced up face was flushed red. He was sweating.

You gonna kill me the way you did Bibi?

Ibrahim was my friend, Ezatullah said. I killed him out of mercy. I will kill you just to shut you up. He pressed the muzzle of the gun against Eldricks forehead.

Shoot me. I dont care. Eldrick closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, Ezatullah had turned back around. They were still in the tunnel. The lights were too much. A sudden wave of nausea passed through Eldrick, and a great up-rushing spasm gripped his body. His stomach clenched and he tasted acid in his throat. He bent over and threw up on the floor between his shoes.

A few seconds passed. The stench wafted up into his face, and he wretched again.

Oh God, he begged silently. Please let me die.

Chapter 7

5:33 a.m.

East Harlem, Borough of Manhattan

Luke held his breath. Loud noises were not his favorite thing, and one hell of a loud noise was coming.

He stood completely still in the bleak light of a tenement building in Harlem. His gun was out, his back pressed to the wall. Behind him, Ed Newsam stood in almost the exact same pose as his. In front of them in the narrow hallway, half a dozen helmeted and flak-jacketed SWAT team members stood on either side of an apartment door.

The building was dead quiet. Dust motes hung in the air. Moments before, a small robot had slid a tiny camera scope beneath the door, looking for explosives attached to the other side. Negative. Now, the robot had retreated.

Two SWAT guys stepped up with a heavy battering ram. It was a swing-type, an officer holding the handle on each side. They didnt make a sound. The SWAT team leader held up his fist. His index finger appeared.

That was one.

Middle finger. Two.

Ring finger…

The two men reared back and swung the ram. BAM!

The door exploded inward as the rammers ducked back. The four others swarmed in, suddenly shrieking, Down! Down! Get DOWN!