“I have a number of toys at my disposal. If Gilmont happens past, I’ll use them. Get out of here. Go save your boy.”

Harry vacillated, torn on the best course of action.

“Go. I assure you I can take care of myself.”

Unhappy about the situation, Harry assisted Sharidon to the thicket and got him situated before he started down the hillside. He hadn’t anticipated Gilmont’s arrival until later in the day, after he had extracted Sammy and Elise from the forest.

With Sharidon down, Harry was Elise and Sammy’s only backup.

Hot prickles erupted on Elise’s arms and neck. Cautious not to make a sudden movement, Elise peered up through the trees, searching for where the gyrocopter had landed on the ridge, but the distance was too great to determine its exact location.

Who else but Gilmont would search on a day like this?

Snippets of memories rose like a cloud of midges. A car chase in Oxford as a lorry plowed into her and her former MI6 partner’s car. Watching Adam’s funeral from her hospital bed. Months of rehabilitation . . .

Elise thrust the accident from her mind.

She and Sammy needed to leave the vicinity. Mindful of her hips, she approached the downed trees where she had told the lad to hide, but Sammy wasn’t there.

“Sammy,” she called in a shaky voice. “Sammy, where are you?”

A frisson of fear clamped onto her spine and radiated out to her extremities. Turning in a half-circle, her eyes scoured the shrubbery. Where was he?

Gilmont climbed out of the gyrocopter and unloaded the shoulder launcher. The hillwalker with the binoculars had spotted his weapon. He was sure of it. Why else would those two men scramble off the ridge like that? If he didn’t stop them, they might notify the authorities before he achieved his purposes.

Lifting his field glasses, Gilmont studied the tree line where he had last seen the two men. Movement through the branches called his attention just inside the forest. That had to be them. Dropping his binoculars, Gilmont uncapped both ends of the launcher and unlatched the pins. He lifted the shoulder launcher and aimed it toward the trees. Rocks crumbled beneath his feet as he pressed the button. Gilmont jumped back as the missile launched from the tube. Boom.

Bark, branches, and limbs shot into the air. One of the oaks toppled with a resounding crash.

Gilmont placed the launcher on the ground and pivoted to check the gyrocopter. The entire side of the cockpit had melted, warping the frame.

Gilmont swore. When he had purchased the launcher, his supplier had warned him that the backblast on this model caused serious damage.

Drew bent over the control panel.

“Will it run?” Gilmont asked.