Jake Reese swallowed tightly and stared across the steaming tarmac at the private jet thirty yards away. Three men stood next to it. One of them set Toby’s car seat beside him on the ground; the other two flanked him and held some sort of assault rifles.

Toby was quiet. Not a peep from the car seat.

Jake was terrified. From where he stood, he couldn’t tell if his son was alive or not.

“Is he okay?” he called to them.

“Sleeping,” the man in the middle replied. “Do you have the canisters?”

“I’m not giving you anything until I know he’s okay!”

“Do you want me to shake him? Pinch him? Make him cry?”

Jake worked his jaw back and forth. “Don’t touch him. What you want is in the trunk of my car. Come and get it.”

“You try anything, your son dies.”

“I understand.”

The man in charge of the car seat nodded to one of his associates, who strode forward to look in Jake’s car.

Jake unlocked it, popped the trunk, and stepped back.

Somewhat cautiously, the guy peered inside, then inspected the two sizable canisters and announced, “They’re here. We’re good.”

“They’re sealed?”

“They’re sealed.”

The man looming over Toby nodded toward Jake, who immediately rushed forward, trembling, to get his boy.

Toby was still quiet.

Jake dropped to his knees. “Toby?” he gasped. “Dada’s here.”

The child didn’t stir.

Jake unbuckled him, eased him from the car seat, and lifted him gently toward his chest.

“Toby, oh my Toby.” His words became a desperate plea to the God he wasn’t even sure he believed in. “You’re okay, I know you’re okay.”

Finally, Toby sniffled and opened his eyes. He threw his arms around his father’s neck and made no sound but just held on, clinging to him, loving him, this man who’d accidentally left him behind in their car to die.

“Our business here is concluded,” the man who’d brought Toby said. “If you try anything, if you tell anyone what you’ve done or the research you were involved in for us, we know where you live. And we will find you if you try to run.”

“I won’t try to run.”

“Alright.”

“Are you the real Ibrahim?”

“That’s no concern of yours.”

“Are you Fayed Raabi’ah Bashir?”

“Keep asking questions you don’t need to know the answer to and see how well that works out for your family. How long will it take to synthesize?”

“You don’t want to mix those two chemicals early. They’re inert when separate—ideal for shipping. But they’ll become potent when mixed together. Wait until you land in New York. Remember that once they’re mixed, they’ll reach their prime potency in four to five hours. Give it five to be safe.”

“And the effects?”