But he knew that it wasn’t where he was born, his old friends, or the army that had gotten him into this mess. It was his own stupidity and greed. All the money Kruger had promised would do him little good if he didn’t make it out alive.

Mr. K had used phrases like “compartmentalization of information” and “security purposes” and “need-to-know” to explain away why the escape plan and their true objective couldn’t be shared with him. He had heard a lot of terms like that during his years in the service, and it had all seemed perfectly logical at the time. Looking back now, he knew he had been blinded by the promise of riches, and he was dying to know what Mr. K and the Doc were doing in that vault room.

The more time that passed, the larger the pit of fear and doubt grew. He felt like he was teetering on the edge of that pit, ready to take the tumble into the depths at any moment.

His arms grew tired from maintaining his aim with the assault rifle, and the bulky vest hidden beneath his shirt made him feel like a baked potato wrapped in tin foil.

It seemed like an eternity since they had sent the blonde woman out with the food order. Kruger had explained that sending out a hostage and asking for food made them seem reasonable and bought them more time to access the vault.

So far everything had worked out as Mr. K had said, but Franklin had his doubts that they would be able to escape from a building surrounded by cops. But it was too late to turn back now. He just needed to be a good soldier a bit longer and hope that his superior officer knew what the hell he was doing.

Franklin’s finger twitched against the M4’s trigger guard as he saw movement outside. The black FBI agent approached the front doors holding two large plastic trays, the kind used at a fast food joint.

“Mr. K, we have movement,” Franklin yelled. “Burgers are here.”

The giant foreigner ducked his head and stepped out from the vault room, shutting the door behind him. In his strange accent—that Franklin guessed was African or maybe Australian, and was too afraid to ask which—Kruger said, “It’s about time.”

“How should we handle it? Do I let him in or meet him out there?”

“No one comes in. Intercept before he reaches the building,” Kruger said. Then, with a smile, Kruger added, “And it’s time to make sure they don’t get any ideas. Show him your little surprise.”

Chapter 38

Carter moved toward the front doors of the Henderson GoBox facility carrying the very specific food order, which was ready and waiting when he returned from the North Vegas GoBox building. The gunmen had sent a hostage out with a typed note detailing a precise number of hamburgers, with no cheese or toppings, removed from the wrappers and placed on two standard plastic trays. The note also stated that if any listening devices were found, a hostage would die.