“Easy, boy,” I said in a voice I hoped was soothing. Ghost glupped back some of the drool and looked up at me, though whether it was for reassurance that the pack leader would protect him or instructions on what to do next was anyone’s guess. I stroked his side and patted his flank. He pressed more firmly against me. “It’s okay, Ghost … it’ll all be okay.”

I was pretty damn sure I was lying to him. To both of us.

Then I tore myself away from the carnage and looked around the cavern. I shined my light and saw something dark on top of one of the crates and at closer inspection saw twenty sets of folded clothes. Not the missing uniforms, but almost certainly the clothes of the men who had taken them. Black pants, black shirts, black balaclavas.

“Oh … shit,” I said aloud. Did that mean there were twenty Upierczi down here? Or were they up in the refinery? Up where my team was.

Shit.

I dropped the balaclava I was holding and directed the light into the cavern. It was so wide that the beam didn’t reach the far side, and from the uneven walls and ceiling, it was apparent that this hadn’t been cut into the earth but was a natural cavern that had been repurposed. The far end looked to be a jagged tunnel, but from where I stood I couldn’t make out any details. I crept quietly toward the stacked crates. Some were open and heaps of straw or packing popcorn were spilled like guts onto the ground. A few were still sealed, and I began circling the stacks looking for a crowbar.

Then I suddenly lost all interest in the crates, the crowbar, the dead bodies, and every other damn thing. I could feel the blood in my veins turn to ice water. My guts clenched as I saw what sat on the far side of the crates.

It was there.

Sixty feet away. It squatted there in the center of the big cavern. Sitting out in the open, all by itself except for thick power cords that coiled like snakes toward the nearest wall.

Huge, powerful, feral. Sophisticated in a brutal and primal way.

Deadly as hell.

My heart started beating as fast as Ghost’s and all the spit in my mouth turned to dust.

“God,” I murmured, but I was looking at the devil.

The bomb.

Chapter One Hundred Ten

Chapter One Hundred Ten

Aghajari Oil Refinery

Iran

June 16, 6:05 a.m.

I moved toward it. I wanted to run. God, I wanted to run for my life.

I kept moving toward it, drawn to the sheer enormity of what it represented at the same time as I was totally repulsed.