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Inside the other safe house, Kara was drop-dead tired. She had slept poorly the last few nights. Her mind was in constant overdrive trying to second guess what might happen. It had been over an hour since the last bullet had been fired and the tunnel collapsed. If she had been a betting woman, she would hedge all her bets that the banker and Kornev would wait until daybreak before continuing the assault. She would make the same call despite a lack of military training. It simply made more sense to attack with increased visibility.
Kara tapped the right pocket of her combat vest, comforted by the feel of the deadly pistol. She crawled into the kids’ bedroom—entering their sanctuary—and slid in among the mattresses. Both children were awake. They had put on their noise-cancelling headphones and immersed themselves in a Disney movie. Kara pulled the blanket over them. The kids, especially the boy, surprised Kara by snuggling close. She put her arms around each of their tiny bodies and gave them a comforting hug.
“Don’t worry,” she told them. “Everything will be OK. I promise.”
Before closing her eyes, Kara tried to calculate the time it would take her to resume her station at the paracord lines. Her best estimate was about twenty seconds, give or take. However, she was running low on ammunition. What ammo Kornev had collected was neutralized in the tunnel’s explosion. If Hail didn’t arrive soon, it would be over—one way or another.
Kara let go of the boy to pull her phone from her pocket. She stared at the phone and fought the urge to call Marshall. Instead, she set an alarm to wake her up before sunrise.
Moments later, she drifted off into a fitful and uneasy sleep. Somehow, her subconscious alerted her to the faint yet distinctive sound of an incoming helicopter.