“Hey, little sis, I sent an Uber to pick up your friends,” she said, calling Nisha and abandoning call signs now that she was in the hotel hallway where people could hear her.

“Understood, big sis,” Nisha came back. “Do you have an Uber for yourself?”

“Unfortunately, that was my Uber. Looks like I’m going to have to hail a taxi,” she said, opting to take the stairs instead of the elevator.

“Hey, we have a rental car,” Nisha said, her voice calmer and softer than Gayle had heard it the entire op. “Happy to swing by and pick you up, especially since it looks like we’re all going to the same party now.”

A smile curled Gayle’s lips. “I’d appreciate that very much.”

“See you in five at the corner outside the hotel.”

“Thanks, sis,” she said, taking the stairs at an athletic pace now.

“It’s the least I can do,” Nisha replied, “for a sister.”

Despite the danger and the risk, for the first time since she’d arrived in Hong Kong, Gayle felt good about the op and herself. She and the Shepherds were in this thing together, to the end . . . and regardless of whatever end that might be, she’d be able to sleep with a clean conscience.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO

PARKING DECK, NORTHWEST BUILDING ENTRANCE

GARDEN TOWERS COMPLEX

OLD PEAK ROAD, CENTRAL, HONG KONG, CHINA

1211 HOURS LOCAL

Jed watched Bex take Zhao’s vitals from where they all huddled in the back of the ambulance. Her face looked tense and a bead of sweat ran from her hairline down her temple.

“How’s he doing?” he asked.

“I mean, he’s alive but completely out,” she said. “I don’t know what this drug they dosed him with is, but it’s hard-core.”

“So any chance of him being able to walk in the next five minutes?”

She looked at him like he’d just asked the stupidest question in the history of questions. “No, Jed, zero chance.”

“Dude, we gotta get outta here,” Hyeon said. “The police are on their way.”

“I know,” Jed said, tapping his foot to dissipate the nervous energy in his leg.

“We’re in a parking garage, bro. All they have to do is block the entrance and exit and we’re toast.”

“I know!” Jed fired back and looked at his watch.

In covert operations, waiting was like an operator’s kryptonite. The inability to act, to move, to change the tactical picture . . . it was like being paralyzed.

“Waiting is the worst,” his fellow former frogman hissed, confirming Jed’s feeling to be universal. “I’d rather be in a straight-up firefight than just sitting here.”

“Not in the middle of Hong Kong, you wouldn’t,” Bex said. “We’re outgunned a gazillion to one, boys. Our only chance is to slip away.”

Jed nodded. I know . . .

Hyeon said nothing.

On the stretcher, Dr. Zhao made a long, rattling snore.