Her breath hitched. “If he’d been on the steps of the best emergency department in the world, he would have died from his injuries. I hadn’t even examined him when he took his last breath.”

“So you didn’t even try to save him. Just as I thought.” Even as he talked about his dead son, she saw nothing on his face—no sorrow, no regret. He snatched her hair and turned her toward her father, then lifted his gun to her father’s head. “I wonder how hard you will work to save your own family.”

Rick’s team breached the door. Rick saw President Akinjide kneeling next to Vice President Myers along with four other men in formal African dress. They all had their hands laced behind their heads. Akinjide had sweat pouring down his face. Next to him, a man lay facedown on the ground, apparently shot in the head.

In his right hand Chukuwereije had a pistol pointed at the back of the vice president’s head, and he held Cynthia by the hair with his left hand. Two soldiers stood to one side of him, and another stood next to a group of people in formal dress. The corners of the room appeared empty, and he saw no one under the table.

All of this information he processed in the split second it took him to enter the room and raise his weapon. “Got him,” he said into the mic as he squeezed the trigger without any hesitation and fired a single shot. His bullet hit its mark, and Chukuwereije went down, dragging Cynthia with him. She cried out and clawed at her hair.

He waited until his men had followed protocol by ensuring their respective targets had departed from the land of the living. All he wanted to do was rush to Cynthia. Vice President Myers had turned around and taken her into his arms. She had her arms around his neck, sobbing.

Rick radioed base to let them know they had taken out Chukuwereije and all of the soldiers present. From the kitchen door, the woman Swanson had identified as President Akinjide’s daughter came running. She headed straight for her father, whose aide had helped him to his feet.

“Are you okay?” the president asked her in French.

“Oui, Papa.” She pointed at Waller. “He saved me before . . .” She cleared her throat. “Before anything could happen.”

Waller nodded to the president. “No thanks needed. It was my pleasure, sir.”

“Thank heaven,” he exclaimed. He turned to Rick. “Thank you. How did you know?”

“Doctor Myers called me.” Unable to stay away another second, Rick went over to Cynthia and her father.

The vice president looked up at Rick, unshed tears in his eyes. Rick read no condemnation for his killing of the warlord.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, kneeling with them.