My exhaustion shattered and fell away, and I turned, instantly hot and angry. Even Bunny took an involuntary step back from me when he saw my face. Top quickly closed in and knelt down, and I think he also saw my face and wanted to get between me and a hostile who was still conscious. The Sabbatarian was a young Spanish-looking man with a slab face and beefy shoulders. There was a ragged red hole on his right sleeve.

“Took one through the biceps,” said Lydia. “Arm’s busted above the elbow.”

The Sabbatarian glared up at us with a mixture of anger, fear, and defiance.

“You got one chance, friend,” I said through gritted teeth. “Cooperate with us and we’ll provide protection and—”

But the Sabbatarian suddenly snapped his jaws shut and grimaced. I could hear something crunch.

“Ah, shit!” yelled Bunny. “Poison tooth. Fuck…”

It was over in five seconds. The bitter almond stink of cyanide rose from the man’s mouth as his lips went slack and hung open. Bunny spun away and punched the wall hard enough to leave a hole the size of a softball.

“Spilled milk,” said Top. “And we got to go.”

“Boss,” said John Smith in my earbud. “Six units coming hard from the center of town. Black SUVs. Five minutes.”

“Copy that. We’re out of here. Watch our backs and meet us at the end of the block in two.”

“K.”

I turned to the others; they’d all heard the same info from Smith. “What do we have for wheels?”

“White vegetable truck,” said Bunny. “Two blocks east.”

“Let’s go. Lydia, my laptop’s in the bedroom. Grab it. Khalid, you’re on point. Let’s move.”

Less than two minutes later we were crammed into a vegetable truck that smelled of rotting cabbage and diesel oil, rolling through quiet streets, leaving another scene of bloody destruction far behind.

Chapter Seventy-nine

Chapter Seventy-Nine

Near Mustapha’s Daily Goods

Tehran, Iran

June 15, 8:12 p.m.

“Oracle,” said Violin.

“Oracle welcomes you, Violin.”

“I need to talk to my mother. Now. Priority Alpha.”

This order bypassed the computer’s AI conversation functions and sent an urgent request to Lilith. It took seventeen nail-biting seconds before the screen changed to show a live streaming image of Violin’s mother.

“Status report,” said Lilith instead of a greeting.

“The Sabbatarians sent two full teams against Captain Ledger.”

“Is he alive?”

“Yes.” She explained what happened and braced herself for the scolding she knew would follow the admission of having stepped in to help the DMS agent.

“Good.” Lilith frowned and her gaze turned inward as she sorted it through. After a few moments she demanded, “What about you? Are you unhurt?”

“Yes, Mother.”

There was a slight softening of Lilith’s stern mouth. “Good. You did the right thing.”

The comment hit Violin like a punch; and Lilith caught her expression. “I…”

“Close your mouth, girl, before you swallow a fly.”