No one spoke as he climbed the ladder, felt around for the latch, and then opened the hatch a crack. Odongo had replaced the bucket and mop, and Chism let them slide slowly back before crawling out. The door leading into the cafeteria was open a couple of inches—left that way by the brief search they’d heard earlier. He peered out at the lines of empty tables. Smoke was just barely visible, creating a haze that hung beneath a sprinkler system that must have been disabled.

Not ideal.

Chism stood and returned to the hatch, pulling it fully open. “Come up. We’ve got to get out of here.”

By the time they slipped into the cafeteria, the main lights were out and the smoke was thick enough to burn his eyes. From now on, they’d be navigating by the red glow of emergency illumination.

A quick peek into the hallway confirmed that it was empty and that the fire was at the back of the facility.

“What?” Ricci said. “What do you see?”

“Too much,” Chism responded.

“What does that mean?”

He pulled back and pressed himself against the wall, looking into the tearing eyes of his two companions.

“There’s no reason for Auma to come all this way to attack a hospital. And he set the back on fire. The front looks clear.”

“What are you saying?”

“That the only thing of value in this place is us. He makes his money stealing, drug dealing, and kidnapping locals. I figure he’s going for the big score.”

“What are we going to do?”

“There aren’t many choices,” Chism admitted. “I figure he set the fire to try to flush us into the parking lot.”

“Where he’s waiting,” Ricci said.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe we should go,” Liu said. “He will ask for money. Mr. Ward will pay and he will let us go.”

“No,” Matteo Ricci said with surprising firmness. “You’re the only thing here that’s valuable, David. I will die a horrible death. And, as a woman, Jing’s will be… unimaginable.”

“Agreed,” Chism said. “So that leaves only one option. We go through the fire and out the back. They won’t expect it and they won’t be waiting for us there.”

“We’ll be burned to death,” Liu said.

“Nah. We’ll be fine.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because I’m super lucky.”

1

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

USA

CIA director Irene Kennedy stepped into the president’s outer office and paused to take in her surroundings. The changes had continued in earnest since the last time she was there. The décor and artwork were even more modern and now the carpet had been replaced with a wood floor that bounced sound around the room.

The desk of the president’s secretary—a barely controlled disaster over the last two administrations—was now the picture of minimalist, high-tech efficiency. As was the woman sitting behind it.