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President Clarke stood up when the two men entered the room.

He looked furious.

“Agent Ryker, what the hell is going on here? The world is watching this delay, and it’s undermining the entire point of this peace summit.”

“I understand, Mr. President, and I’m sorry it had to be done,” Marcus said. “But it’s time to proceed.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re ready for the three of you and Secretary Whitney to tour the complex, take the photo, and make your remarks,” Marcus said. “And afterward, of course, we will take His Majesty to the mosque so he can have some time alone to pray.”

The holding room was silent. Besides Marcus and Tomer, only eleven other people were present —POTUS and the head of his Secret Service detail; the Israeli prime minister and his bodyguard; King Faisal, the head of the Royal Guards, and his intelligence chief, Prince Abdullah; Secretary Whitney and Agent Geoff Stone; and Senator Dayton and Annie Stewart.

Suddenly the senator spoke up.

“Marcus, you know I have the highest respect for you, but I’m confused,” Dayton began. “I share the president’s frustration, and I want this summit to proceed and to succeed as much as everyone in this room. But if you tell us it’s not safe out there, then I’ll believe you. Don’t tell us what we want to hear. Tell us the truth.”

“Yes, Agent Ryker, tell us the truth,” Prince Abdullah added. “What is really going on out there?”

Marcus looked at Clarke, who nodded his consent.

“Very well,” Marcus began. “Ali Haqqani is dead. Mohammed al-Qassab is wounded but in custody. We’ve just confirmed the Grand Mufti is not the bomber and poses no threat. And we’re now convinced that Hussam Mashrawi is the bomber. We’re also certain that you all are the target and that Mashrawi intends to rush you and detonate himself the moment you all appear together at the photo op with the Grand Mufti in front of the Dome of the Rock. The problem is, at this moment, we don’t know where Mashrawi is. Personally, I believe he’s still here, somewhere on the Mount.”

“That’s impossible,” said Prime Minister Eitan. “Our people —and yours —have been over every square meter of this place and there has been no sign of him.”

Marcus was about to reply, but Tomer spoke first.

“With respect, sir, no one knows this place better than Hussam Mashrawi. I believe Agent Ryker is correct. Mashrawi is here, somewhere, lying in wait.”

“Then why in the world would you send us out there?” the president asked.

“To flush him out, sir,” Marcus replied.

“I’m sorry?” Clarke said in disbelief.

“Sir, you’re insistent on doing the photo op,” Marcus explained. “That’s your prerogative. So let’s go do it. If I’m wrong and Hussam is not here, then there’s nothing to fear. The summit will proceed apace.”

“But what if you’re right?” asked Secretary of State Whitney.

“Then we’ll stop him before he can get close to any of you, and I assure you, we’ll take him out.”

For several moments, the holding room was silent again.

Then Clarke said, “Agent Ryker, would you give us a minute?”

“Of course, sir.”

Marcus and Tomer turned and stepped out of the room. As they did, Marcus called the war room and briefed Roseboro.

“Yeah, I heard the whole thing,” the deputy director replied.

“How?”

“Agent Stone switched on his radio the moment you walked into the holding room. I heard every word. Everyone in the war room did. You’re insane. You know that, right?”

“Have you got a better option, Carl?”

“No,” Roseboro said. “As a matter of fact, I don’t.”