“Yes. I have ‘that which you seek,’ but there’s no way you’re going to get it, not unless you let the hostages go, at least back to their homes. You’ve cut off communications to the outside world. What are these people going to do? They’re not like you, Griffin. They’re civilians, through and through, and if you recall, you once swore an oath to protect and preserve their way of life, not destroy it.” Brandon knew his words were futile, but he had to buy time to give Zack a fighting chance. He figured Zack was listening, and he was grateful both for it and for the fact that Griffin hadn’t discovered Zack Chambers was also a resident. He knew that fact alone might have changed the entire calculus for Griffin—and not for the better.

“You always had a way with words, Brandon. You knew just when to say the right thing, and you always made it sound sincere. I respected that . . . once. Unfortunately, that time is gone, and I don’t live by that oath anymore. The agency chose sides, and it chose incorrectly when it refused to let me off my leash. There is an endless supply of evil men, terrorists, cybercriminals, and foreign agents, and all you had to do was let me do my job. But instead, you and the agency chose to reign me in, to force me to take a position at headquarters, a job not in the field, where I belong. Your words are hollow, and you never get to tell me what to do again,” Griffin ended, the seething rage he still felt at his perceived betrayal by the CIA festering like an old war wound that never healed quite right and chronically became inflamed and infected.

“It wasn’t my call. I told you that. The political environment was no longer permissive. After the ridiculous review of our enhanced-interrogation efforts, we no longer had a say. The politicians put the handcuffs on, and you know it. There was nothing I could do. It was way above even my pay grade.”

Griffin knew what he said was true, but he didn’t care anymore. He only cared about results. “It’s irrelevant, and quite honestly, it’s exhausting and a waste of my time to rehash old disagreements. We have more important things to talk about. Let me rephrase that—I just have to tell you what you’re going to do, and then maybe, we walk away and allow you and the rest of your neighbors to live.”

“And what is it you want me to do?” Brandon asked in resignation.

“Easy. You have five minutes to bring me the laptop. I’m at the pavilion. If you’re not here, I’m going to light the biggest bonfire this neighborhood has ever seen, and I’m going to do it with your neighbors as live kindling.”