Then you had Scott, who she’d really only seen drive an SUV at this point and throw a smoke grenade farther than she’d ever seen someone throw a grenade before. Berg said he was an ex–Navy SEAL, which would have been her first guess. Tall with a muscular swimmer’s build, totally contrasting with the rest of the team members, who looked like career ground-pounders. Muscular and stocky.

She assumed Rico and Jared were the team’s designated snipers, based on the assignments they’d been given at the town house. Emily could be anything. A taut, unsmilingly serious woman of few words, with catlike reflexes, who looked just as at ease with a knife as a firearm. Earlier she’d balanced a daggerlike blade on her fingertip while studying the wall, flipping to the handle and then back again repeatedly. Of all the mercenaries in the room, Emily scared her the most.

The two surveillance gurus had expressed similar sentiments earlier. Graves and Gupta had nodded toward her on a few occasions, shaking their heads and rolling their eyes at something Emily had said. Those two intrigued her the most. Gupta might be in his early forties, but he acted like he was twenty-two, and stuck in a late-nineties rap video. Graves, who spent most of his time calming Gupta down, was clearly pushing fifty and walked with a limp. The two couldn’t be more different, but between the occasional sibling-like bickering, they worked together seamlessly. All in all, she could see why Karl had placed so much faith in this crew.

Devin opened the bags and started tossing aluminum foil–wrapped breakfast burritos around the room. Everyone snatched them out of the air as though their lives depended on it. Devin hand delivered her burrito, along with Rich’s.

“They’re all the same. Chorizo and eggs, with cheese and a bunch of other stuff,” said Devin.

“Sounds heavenly,” said Marnie, thinking she sounded like an idiot.

“Two thousand calories of heaven,” said Rich. “How’s your leg?”

Devin lifted his pant leg to expose a napkin-size compress taped in place over the front of his shin. A few specks of red poked through the sterile white dressing.

“It’s not bad at all. Normally this would take a few stitches, but it’ll heal up fine,” said Devin.

“Emily can stitch you up if you want. She’s a former combat medic,” said Rich. “Her kit includes a serious local anesthetic. You won’t feel a thing.”

Marnie nodded. “I’d take them up on the offer. God knows what we’ll be up to over the next several days.”

“We’ll be up to no good. That’s for certain,” said Rich, getting up. “What kind of coffee do you have in the kitchen?”

“Nespresso machine. No idea about the coffee itself,” said Devin. “Berg seemed happy.”