By the time they passed through a small village that was their last landmark, it was late morning. Rapp reached over and reset the vehicle’s odometer. “In twenty-seven point three kilometers there’ll be a dirt road on the right. Easy to miss in the dark, but we should be okay now that the sun’s up.”

Nash nodded, feeling a surge of adrenaline drive back his exhaustion. That dirt track would take them to a forested area that was too steep and rocky to be useful to the surrounding farms. A clearing near the middle was where Rapp believed he would be meeting Irene Kennedy.

Nash rolled down his window, breathing in the morning air. Hopefully, it would be enough to quiet the nausea building in his gut. But probably not.

As predicted, the turn was easy to spot and they began climbing a rough track that headed into the trees. After another few miles, Rapp pointed to a small break in the foliage. “There.”

Nash pulled in and stopped. “This is it?”

Rapp responded by throwing his door open and stepping from the vehicle. Nash did the same, using a hand to shield his eyes from the sun’s glare. The clearing was roughly a hundred yards in diameter and ringed by densely packed trees. The ground rolled a bit, broken by a few rocky outcroppings but otherwise empty.

Rapp stayed near the vehicle, but Nash walked away from it, wanting to put some distance between them. Finally, when he was about twenty yards out, he turned.

“Care to tell me what we’re doing here, Mitch?”

“We’re supposed to meet Irene.”

“Irene? What the hell are you talking about?”

Rapp broke free from the cover of the vehicle, starting to move in Nash’s direction. “The message on that tablet was to meet her here.”

Nash conjured a skeptical expression with just a hint of caution. Ironic in an agonizing kind of way. “I left her looking pretty comfortable in her office, Mitch. And why would she send me if she was planning on coming herself? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Rapp didn’t look suspicious yet and hadn’t made a move for the weapon that would be hanging beneath his right arm. His good humor wouldn’t last, though.

The men appeared from the forest before Rapp had even made it fifteen feet from the vehicle. Three of them, covered head to toe in camo, eyes invisible behind goggles, and assault weapons in hand. Their positions were perfect, allowing them to keep their weapons trained on Rapp while avoiding any potential for crossfire.

Not surprisingly, Rapp didn’t even bother reaching for his gun. He would have registered how these men moved, read his tactical position, and concluded that any action on his part would be suicide. Still, Nash felt the need to drive the point home.