The blind man was blocked for a few seconds by a helpful member of the staff and the driver of a cab. A suitcase and laptop case were put into the trunk. No bags that resembled the ones taken from the meeting room, but he didn’t expect to see those.

He tested the wind and made very slight adjustments to his sights.

Ready. Patient.

The man then moved away from the hotel staff member and the driver and the shot was clear and easy. Sydänkäpy slipped his finger into the trigger guard, took a breath, and exhaled as he pulled the trigger.

CHAPTER 139

THE PAVILION

BLUE DIAMOND ELITE TRAINING CENTER

STEVENS COUNTY, WASHINGTON

Bunny was out walking.

He and Top took turns strolling around, making sure that they were never directly looking at anything important, but letting their button cams pick up details.

“Turn just a little bit to the left,” said Andrea, who was somewhere in the woods processing the intel. “Gorilla balls! What is that?”

Bunny, of course, said nothing.

Forty feet away, a group of Pavilion technicians were using a forklift to place K-110 fighting machines into huge crates. There was a line of nine such crates, and three more on the back of a stake-bed semi. Other techs were busy securing the loaded crates to the truck bed with canvas straps and chains. The crates were marked: MEDICAL EQUIPMENT—C-19.

“Accidenti!” cried Andrea. “What clever bastards they are. Che palle!”

Bunny lingered for as long as he could—no more than a few seconds—and then moved on to complete his daily morning walk. Later, Top would go jogging through here.

CHAPTER 140

HOTEL TIMIȘOARA

TIMIȘOARA, ROMANIA

But just as I was about to step into the car, I heard a strange sound. A soft whisk of air past my cheek and immediately a light thunk of something striking asphalt nearby. There was so much hustle and noise on the street that no one else seemed to have heard it. I ducked my ass immediately into the car and shifted to the center of the rear bench seat, pushing Ghost down on the floor.

“Hurry, please,” I said to the driver, “I need to make my flight.”

He pulled away, and then we were gone.

My pulse was hammering because I knew both of those sounds.

The first had been a bullet passing within inches of my face. How many inches? Hard to say, though I’ve been in enough firefights to know that’s what it was. Four inches? Less? There is a distinctive way the lead cleaves through the air. And the other sound was that same bullet hitting the blacktop on which I stood. It had been a very solid impact, too.

A rifle bullet.