“My man,” Noah said in his native accent. “Going way off the reservation. I love it. I got Belyakov.”

The two men switched positions as Zack covered the second SUV by resting the HK416 on the hood of the Range Rover. As the second Mercedes came to a stop thirty yards away and faced them, Zack flipped an invisible coin inside his head. Which one of you is going to die? Left or right?

He heard Noah scream at Belyakov, the sound of a door being wrenched open, and then louder voices of Belyakov’s terrified children. He forced himself to ignore the sympathy he felt for the two children, innocents who were being terrorized because of their father. And you, Zack. You’re a part of this, like it or not.

Both doors on the Mercedes abruptly opened, catching Zack momentarily off guard. Fielder’s choice. I can roll with that.

If the two security personnel had jumped out simultaneously, it might’ve made Zack’s decision a little harder. Instead, the profile of a man appeared behind the clear glass on the open passenger door, holding a black submachine gun. Zack waited and adjusted the red-dot sight on the moving figure, operating under the assumption that the Mercedes’s glass was bulletproof. Unfortunately for Belyakov’s personal security guard, he wasn’t as patient as Zack.

He brought the submachine gun up and around the edge of the door, exposing himself slightly, which was all that Zack needed. He pulled the trigger once on the HK416, the report ricocheting off the low rock wall to his left. The round struck the man in the head, and he collapsed to the concrete, falling to his side, the submachine gun still clutched in his hands. Zack shifted the red-dot sight to the driver’s side of the vehicle and waited for the driver to decide his fate. Zack watched him, his hands on the steering wheel, and imagined the internal deliberation with which the driver was struggling—come to his boss’s aid or flee.

The Mercedes suddenly lurched forward, and both doors slammed shut from the sudden momentum. For the briefest of moments, Zack thought the driver was aiming the Mercedes at him and the Range Rover, but then the SUV turned to the right, squealing its tires. Wonderful.

Zack turned to shout at Noah, who had already yanked Belyakov out of the vehicle and was shoving him into the back of the Range Rover. His family was screaming as their husband and father was yanked away from them, and Zack felt his heart break for them, but immediately quashed it. “We need to go, now!” he shouted as he threw the HK into the passenger seat and slid into the driver’s seat, the engine running.

“Go! Go! Go!” Noah yelled, and Zack shifted into drive. Instantaneously, the Range Rover rocketed forward, and Zack heard Belyakov swear in Russian.