Nathan knew he’d have General Robert “Thorny” Hawthorne’s full attention now. Echo five was his old code designation from his covert missions in Nicaragua. Back then, General Hawthorne had been his commanding officer. Thorny had since risen to the position of commandant of the Marine Corps. Nathan’s successful missions in Nicaragua had helped boost Thorny’s career by a star. There were unspoken debts in play—in both directions—neither of which would be mentioned.

“Well, echo five, something tells me I’m not going to like this call.”

“An old friend of ours from Central America has surfaced. A body was discovered with signature markings.”

Thorny didn’t respond.

“You still there?” Nathan asked.

“Yes.”

“Containment may be impossible.”

“We need to meet.”

“Agreed.”

“Today,” Thorny said. “I’ll move my appointment up with Lieutenant General Pearson, MarForPac’s CO. He won’t like the change of plans, but he’s a good man. He’ll deal with it. I’ll come to you. You know where.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll call you from the air with an exact ETA. Count on around twelve-hundred.”

Nathan ran the calculation in his head. They’d have to leave Sac Exec by no later than 0700 hours. They weren’t getting much sleep tonight, if any. “We’ll be there, echo four and me.”

“You’re both invisible.”

“Understood.”

“Twelve-hundred.”

Nathan looked toward Holly’s sedan. No doubt she and Harv would be talking about him, and understandably she’d be feeling some apprehension—probably more than some. His own apprehension reached much deeper. He didn’t know how this development would affect him, and he desperately wanted to avoid slipping back into the fractured state that had nearly driven him to suicide. He’d moved past that years ago. Had it not been for Harv’s unyielding friendship, he would have ended his life. Harv had given him purpose. Started their security company. Invested their money. Protected him. He owed Harv more than he could ever repay in ten lifetimes.

He closed his eyes. It was one thing to be tortured in private, but publicly? In front of women and children? For days on end? Juan Montez de Oca had been especially twisted in his methods. He’d gathered dozens of local villagers to witness the interrogations. One day, while Montez watched with casual indifference, one of the mercenaries who fancied himself an expert with a bullwhip had demonstrated his skills. During the unthinkable pain and blood loss, Nathan had discovered a dark side of himself, a savage part of his psyche that he’d come to call the other, for lack of a better term. This hate-filled personality had made it possible for him to cope with the pain and humiliation of being brutalized in front of an entire village, including women and children who’d been openly sobbing. Nearing death, Nathan had lost count at twenty-eight lashes.