When Rapp came around the last turn, he saw Coleman waiting at the open gate. Surprisingly, Nicholas Ward was standing next to him, hands shoved in his pockets and a deep frown on his face. Or maybe it wasn’t so surprising. He was probably getting pretty bored at this point. Going from running the largest private empire in history to wandering around looking at the bird life was a pretty stark transition.

“I can’t believe that worked!” Coleman said as Rapp stepped from the vehicle. “I bet Mas ten bucks you’d be hanging from a cross by now.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Rapp said.

He shrugged. “I’ll win it back.”

“Is he dead?” Ward interjected.

“Auma? Yeah.”

“What about his people?”

“Same. And by now the girls will be on their way back to their villages. Congratulations, Nick. Your first field operation was a spectacular success.”

“My first field operation…” he repeated, suddenly losing himself in thought.

“Are we still good here, Scott?”

“One hundred percent. The only people in the outside world who know we’re alive are Claudia, Marcus, Irene, and the woman Nick contacted to get your drugs made. And let me tell you that people seem really broken up about my death. You, not so much. In fact, I’m hearing rumors about parties breaking out all over the Middle East.”

Rapp ignored the jab. “What about the woman Nick called. She’s solid?”

The trillionaire responded immediately, clearly concerned for his employee’s safety. “Erica’s been with me for twenty years and she’s never been anything but completely reliable. You don’t need to worry.”

“I assume we’re worrying?” Rapp said and Coleman nodded.

“We’ve got a seven-man team on her. Electronic surveillance on her house, office, and car, plus all her communications. So far, she seems to know how to keep her mouth shut. If that changes, we’ll snatch her.”

A flash of anger crossed Ward’s face, but he managed to remain silent. Clearly, he cared about his people but knew better than to waste his breath on something that was beyond his control. Both rare traits in powerful people.

“Irene sent an encrypted email to one of our dummy Gmail accounts this morning. Nothing but a number. Sixteen hundred and nine. Mean anything to you?”

It did. Sixteen hundred was a time—4 p.m. his time. The nine was code for a pay phone that still existed outside of Baltimore. He’d memorized the number years ago.

“What time is it?”

Coleman glanced at his watch. “A little after noon.”

“I need to make a phone call at four.”

“Secure?”

“No. To a US pay phone.”

“No problem. We have a box of brand-new satphones registered to a front company in Indonesia. I’m on it. Anything else?”

Rapp shook his head and the former SEAL started jogging up the walkway toward the comms area they’d set up.