The hand-delivered message was unusual enough to get his full attention. Modern technology provided endless options for encrypted comms and the fact that she’d chosen not to use one was notable. Instead, he’d been handed a sealed USB drive designed to fit only into a laptop he’d been provided years ago. It would be the first—and last—time it was used.

Upon reading the document it contained, the reason for avoiding normal CIA communications protocols was understandable. The threat, though, wasn’t what he’d expected in such a dramatic communiqué. Not to him or Kennedy or America, but to Nicholas Ward.

And so here he was, heading back to a job he’d just quit. But less to solve Ward’s problem than Kennedy’s. Marcus Dumond had run into a dead end identifying the person digging around in the CIA’s mainframe. That meant they were going to have to go low-tech: using disinformation she’d introduced into Ward’s file to trick the perpetrator into revealing himself. An old-fashioned mole hunt.

And, if he was being completely honest, it wasn’t the worst time to get out of the Cape. The day before, he’d taken Anna on a little ride outside the wall and there had been a minor incident involving a tree. And a ditch. And maybe a few spiny plants.

Despite the fact that there hadn’t been all that much blood, the top of Claudia’s head had nearly blown off. He was alive today only because there had been no sharp objects within reach when he and Anna had pushed their bikes back through the gate.

He smiled into the wind coming through the chopper’s open door. Anna had really been drilling it when she went down. And while there had been a few tears, they hadn’t been accompanied by any sniveling. His smile faded. If she ended up with her father’s ruthless determination and her mother’s brains, she’d become one dangerous woman. And an impossible-to-control teenager.

As they overflew Ward’s compound, Rapp noted that the berms reinforcing the fence were all but done. So were various chain gun mounts and a number of other defensive measures. All reasonably subtle but, when combined with the strategic location, also deceptively formidable. Coleman had once again proved that he was the best in the business.

“Looks like the place is in pretty good shape,” Rapp shouted to the former SEAL as he jumped out of the aircraft and jogged from beneath its rotors.

“Yeah. We finally took delivery of the green razor wire, but we can’t set it up until we install ultrasonic bullhorns to keep animals from walking into it. That’ll all be done today, though.”

“And the mines?”