“Dr. Shapiro, my name is Millen Thomas. I’m a first-year EIS agent deployed in Mandera.”

“Sure,” Elliott said. Millen could hear him walking in the background, a cacophony of voices and people typing on keyboards. “What can I do for you, Millen?”

“Sir, we have a problem.”

Chapter 36

Chapter 36

The call had rattled Elliott. He had been doing his final rounds before leaving for the day, but now he sat at his desk, thinking through his next moves. What he did now could well determine whether his people in Kenya lived or died—including one young woman in particular who was very special to him.

Elliott and his wife, Rose, had been blessed with two sons. One had died at the age of three in their pool. They had filled it in and planted a garden in its place as a memorial. The other son was an anesthesiologist in Austin, and they saw him a few times a year. Peyton was a regular at their home, however, and over the years, both Elliott and Rose had begun to think of her—to treat her—as if she were the daughter they’d never had.

He knew that the hours immediately after her abduction were the most crucial to ensuring her safe return, that acting quickly and decisively was the only way to protect her, to prevent any truly evil act from occurring.

His first call was to the National Reconnaissance Office, where his request was met with immediate resistance.

“We need that sat telemetry right now, you understand?” he said. “I’m going to hang up now and call State and people way above your pay grade. I’m going to mention your name. If telemetry isn’t available by the time I call you back, it will go badly for you.”

He wasn’t bluffing; he called the State Department next, and right after, his contact at the CIA.

The moment he hung up, his office phone rang. It was the director of the CDC. Elliott had instructed Millen to call the EOC and update them immediately after their call; apparently word of the crisis had now reached the top of the food chain.

“Did you call State, Elliott?”

“Yeah.” Elliott was typing on his computer, sending an email to Joe Ruto, head of CDC in Kenya, urging him to contact the Kenyans about any assets they had in the area.

“Did you threaten them, Elliott?”

“Uh, yeah. Maybe, I don’t know. Why?”

Elliott shifted the phone to his other shoulder so he could type faster.

“Because they just called me. They’re not happy.”

“Uh-huh. Is the White House going to approve the RDF?”

Elliott believed a Rapid Deployment Force scouring the area for Peyton and the other hostages was their best shot at getting them back; he had been working to make that exact scenario happen.

“They don’t even have a target yet,” the director said.

“Sure they do: the al-Shabaab camps in Somalia.”