Franks shook his head. “Too dangerous.” Plus, there were some things that should never be brought up during an interrogation. “Shoot them on sight.”

“According to your guys, they look like people, so how will we know?”

“Trust me. You’ll know,” Archer interjected.

“Noted, but still, I don’t know how you expect us to do all that with only twenty-five men before Stricken gets reinforcements here.”

A loud air horn honked on the other side of the trees.

Franks nodded toward the road. “That should be our backup.”

Cueto’s radio chirped. “Delta Six, this is Lookout, there’s a coach approaching your position.”

“Say again, Lookout, what do you mean by coach?”

“Passenger coach. I mean it’s a bus like one of those big ones that old people and tourists take tours to the Grand Canyon on.”

“Tell your men to stand down,” Franks ordered. “They’re with me.”

A minute later a gigantic pink and grey bus pulling a cargo trailer rolled into the clearing.

“If they’re with you, how about we crash that ugly-ass barge through Stricken’s fence and not scratch the paint on my armored vehicles?” Cueto suggested as Franks approached the bus.

The hydraulic doors opened. Gutterres got out first. He must have met them down the road. “Hello, Franks. My people have arrived.”

“It was hard to miss.”

“Don’t judge. It’s a rental. It’s what they had at the airport.” Men began to get off the bus behind Gutterres. They were dressed in unremarkable civilian clothing, but every one of them was young, large of stature, and so fit they appeared to be built of solid muscle. The new arrivals cautiously studied the MCB while whispering to each other in German.

“So . . . We’re not just moving against part of our own government, but we’re doing it with a bunch of foreign nationals? Fucking lovely. You got any more surprises for me today, Franks?”

“Probably.”

“I’m Special Agent Cueto of the MCB. Who the fuck are you guys?” he shouted.

Gutterres gave him an innocent smile. “I’d prefer not to say. All that matters today is that we’re on the same side.”

“Great. More secrets.”

“Would it help if I told you we actually have secret in our name? It’s kind of like our thing.”

“They’re okay,” Franks assured Cueto. He turned back to Gutterres. “Did you bring your combat exorcists?”

“What the fuck? Never mind, I’d rather not know. I’ll see to my men. You see to your exorcists or whatever these tourists are.” Cueto threw his hands in the air as he walked away, muttering to himself.