“Uh, not quite as planned. The translator is dead. The subjects are dead. The natives are growing restless.”

“Okay, we’ve got a visual on your location. Seems like a crowd is gathering.”

“Yes.”

“Not good.”

Luke nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”

Jacob’s voice came on, calm as always.

“Luke, we’ll be there in thirty seconds. I’d suggest we make this a just-in-time thing. Touch and go. We’ll drop into the front yard, guns facing the bulk of the crowd, you guys come out, jump on board, and we’re gone in five seconds. Sound okay?”

“We’re bringing a body out,” Luke said.

“Okay,” Jacob said. “Then make it six seconds.”

They could hear the chopper already.

“Sounds good.”

Ed Newsam kneeled and slung Greg Welch’s body over his shoulder. Welch’s head was dripping blood and gore. It didn’t matter. The rule was you didn’t leave a man behind. It was a rule that you couldn’t always follow, but in this case…

“Got him?” Luke said.

Ed nodded. “Let’s go.”

Just before the helicopter landed, Luke came out of the house first, his own gun in his right hand, Ed’s gun in his left. He pointed them directly into the crowd. No one moved or even flinched. Hard eyes stared at him.

Behind him, Ed Newsam came out, carrying his tragic cargo.

The chopper barely touched down before it was back in the air. Luke looked back at the crowd. Upturned faces watched the helicopter flying away.

Luke was already on the radio again.

“Swann? Swann, can you hear me?”

The Little Bird chopper banked hard left and headed south and east, away from the village and back toward Iraqi territory. If they were lucky, they would make it across the border before anyone in the Syrian government knew they were here.

“Three minutes to the border,” Jacob said. “Three minutes. Hold tight and send a little prayer to whoever or whatever you believe in.”

The remains of Greg Welch lay sprawled across the tiny passenger cabin. Ed Newsam was working to zip Welch’s corpse into a body bag. Welch’s head was ruined. His face seemed as though a giant fist had punched a bloody hole in it.

Swann’s deep voice: “Luke? I’m here.”

Luke felt breathless, like he had just run ten miles. “Swann.”

“Yeah. How did it go? Did you get any information from the parents?”

“There was a problem with the parents,” Luke said.

The radio crackled. “A problem? How so?”