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Outskirts of Dubai, United Arab Emirates

 

“Coyote-One, you’ve got two vehicles approaching from your left, one from your right. Your path ahead is about to be blocked.”

Sherrie cursed as she leaned forward, spotting the vehicles on her left racing toward the intersection she was about to cross. “Check right!”

Dawson frowned. “One vehicle. Small. Is this company issue?”

Sherrie nodded. “Yup.” She cranked the wheel to the right, skidding into the intersection and sideswiping the first police vehicle arriving ahead of her. Its driver lost control, careening into a street light, collapsing its bumper, the airbags deploying.

But that was the past. Sherrie gunned it directly toward the oncoming compact car, her massive SUV’s engine roaring in anticipation.

“Umm, you know you’re playing chicken with someone who thinks he’s getting seventy-two virgins if he dies in the line of duty?”

Sherrie ignored Acton’s observation from the back seat, instead focusing on the car ahead of her, watching for any telltale signs of what the driver was about to do.

And by all outward appearances, he wanted his virgins.

He swerved, hopping the curb and putting his front end into a glass-fronted shop closed for the night.

Dawson whooped, slamming his fist on the dash. “Balls. Of. Steel.”

Sherrie grinned as she took a sharp left, getting them back on track, their final destination less than a mile away. “Never discount lady balls.”

She checked her rearview mirror to confirm the second SUV was still with them, having benefited from her clearing the way with her CIA customized vehicle that wouldn’t pop airbags or cut off fuel unless it was a truly horrific collision.

Unfortunately, two police units were still behind them, and she could see the flashing lights converging from all directions now that they were on the outskirts of the city, and the buildings they had been surrounded by dwindled.

“Coyote-One, you’ll be at your destination in five seconds. Our recommendation is to negotiate your way out of this. Good luck.”

Sherrie frowned at her boyfriend’s recommendation. “I’m not sure that’s going to work out too well for us. Better tell State to warm up their lips, because I think there’s going to be a lot of ass kissing needed to get us out of here.”

“Copy that, Coyote-One. We’ll get you out, no matter what.”

She smiled as she slammed on the brakes, bringing them to a halt in the middle of a sand-swept parking lot of an abandoned development. The second SUV slid to a halt just behind her, creating a V that if necessary, could provide at least some cover.

And they were going to need it.

The first two cars arrived, lights flashing, sirens blaring, and came to a halt directly behind them. Within minutes, another dozen were surrounding them, the occupants out of their vehicles, all aiming their weapons at the two SUVs.

“Coyote-One, the convoy of suspect vehicles is less than two minutes out. We recommend putting yourselves in local police custody for your protection.”

“Copy that.” She turned to the others. “Langley recommends we surrender to the locals. Those other guys are going to be here any second.”

Acton’s eyes narrowed. “What other guys?”

Dawson turned to face him. “That call your guy was making went to someone in a convoy of six vehicles. They’re going to be here in less than two minutes.”

Laura stared toward the road they had just been on. “There’s no way we want to be leaving here with them.”

Acton nodded. “Agreed, but even if we surrender, we’re not out of here in two minutes.”

Dawson tapped his Glock. “I’m not sure we want to be unarmed when they arrive.”

Sherrie regarded him for a moment. “So, you’re thinking we shoot our way out of this?”

Dawson shook his head. “No, but we are here for a reason.”

Somebody on a bullhorn started blaring orders.

“Did he just say what I think he said?” asked Sherrie.

Dawson nodded. “Yup. And though I’d love to sit here and test the difference between bulletproof and bullet-resistant, I’m thinking it’s best we at least step outside.”

Sherrie sighed. “Fine. But who’s going to do the talking?”

“I will.” All eyes were on Acton.

Dawson regarded him. “Good idea. You’re civilian, and you have a legit kidnapping story.”

“But how do I explain you?”

“We’re part of your private security team. We found you, came to get you, made our escape, didn’t know who to trust, so tried to make a direct extraction rather than contact the authorities.”

Acton smiled. “I like that.”

Dawson looked at Sherrie then Laura, appearing apologetic for what he was about to say. “You two should try to keep quiet. There’s no telling how they’ll react to a woman talking out of turn.”

Sherrie grinned. “This is one Charlie-Foxtrot I’m happy to leave to you boys.”

Acton chuckled. “Everyone ready?”

Sherrie nodded. “Let’s do this.” She activated her comm. “Coyote-One to Control. We’re about to exit the vehicle, over.”

“This is Control. Hostiles are about to arrive, over.”

Sherrie cursed. “Company’s here.”

 

Acton stuffed his weapon in the back of his pants, not sure of what was about to arrive. The police didn’t necessarily scare him, though one panicked officer could turn him into ground beef. It was these new arrivals that were of concern, and like Dawson, he was worried about being unarmed when they injected themselves into the situation.

He opened his door, stepping out slowly with his hands up, the others doing the same. He kept Laura between himself and the SUV, so he’d hopefully take any first shots, perhaps giving her time to jump back into the bullet-resistant vehicle, buying her enough time for cooler heads to prevail.

“I’m an American citizen that was kidnapped!” he shouted to no one in particular. “Does anyone here speak English?”

The second vehicle slowly emptied out, taking their cue from the first, and Acton winced as he spotted his friend, Karlsson, held between Niner and Atlas, his face bloodied and swollen, though appearing much better than he had just a few minutes ago, Niner’s expert medical care already breathing life back into the man.

That and the halt to the never-ending flurry of blows.

“Identify yourself!” came the reply over the speaker.

“My name is Professor James Acton. This is my wife Professor Laura Palmer,” he said, motioning toward Laura. “The injured man is Professor Viggo Karlsson. He was kidnapped and brought here against his will. We were coerced into coming here to negotiate for his release. The others are part of our private security team. We’re the victims here.”

His words had little effect, and he wondered if they were even understood.

But it didn’t matter, the conversation over as engines roared and six large SUVs rolled up on the scene, fanning out then stopping in a solid line of headlights, illuminating the situation and blinding everyone as to what was happening.

Doors opened then slammed shut, the beams cut by silhouettes of the occupants advancing. Acton held up his hand to block the glare when Dawson shouted a warning.

“They’re armed!”

The new arrivals walked through the cordon of confused police, marching toward Acton and the others, weapons raised.

“Prepare to defend!”

Acton’s heart hammered as the Delta team all drew their concealed weapons, aiming them at the new arrivals and not the police. Acton pulled his own weapon, Laura doing the same as she advanced to take position at his side.

“I think this is about to get ugly.”

Acton agreed, the police now shouting at the new arrivals to lower their weapons, and too many of the officers were beginning to panic, several aiming their guns at one group of what they considered hostiles, then the other. “If someone panics, get back in the SUV and hit the deck.”

“After you.”

“Oh, I’ll be right on your ass, don’t you worry.”

Dawson approached from his right, stopping between Acton and Sherrie. “We’ve got a Mexican standoff here, ladies and gentlemen. These rarely end well.”

The hostiles continued advancing, ignoring the police and the barked orders from the Delta team to halt.

Dawson activated his comm, whispering something.

Two bursts of sand erupted at the feet of the hostiles, followed by two more, the report of sniper rifles reaching them a split second later.

Bringing the advancing horde to a halt.

Two more shots, slightly closer, had them backing away, and Acton suppressed a satisfied grin at the fear now on display as they looked about, trying to figure out where the shots were coming from.

Dawson winked at Acton. “You didn’t think we came alone, did you?”

Acton grunted. “A little heads up would have been nice.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

A door opened behind the wall of light then shut, a man in traditional Saudi robes striding into view, a level of arrogance and confidence on display that Acton had rarely seen.

It made him want to punch the man in the face.

Repeatedly.

For his demeanor left little doubt he was the man behind everything.

He walked up to them, ignoring all the weapons trained on him, then stopped, his eyes roaming from man to man, the women ignored. “Who is Professor Acton?”

Acton bowed his head slightly. “I am.”

“You have something that belongs to me.”

Acton shook his head. “No, I have something that belongs to everyone.”

The man stared at him, slightly puzzled, as if he weren’t used to being contradicted. “I don’t understand.”

Acton regarded him. “What makes you think that a ring, discovered in Sweden, dating back over one thousand years, belongs to you?”

The man’s lip curled slightly. “I don’t think it belongs to me, Professor, I know it does.”

I have to hear this.

“How?”

“It is a story handed down from generation to generation, a shameful one meant to remind us of how selfishness can destroy everything, and of how thinking of ourselves before others can result in punishment from Allah that lasts generations.”

Laura stepped forward, her weapon at her side. “Fatima Halabi was your ancestor?”

“Yes.”

“And she dishonored your family by marrying a Viking?”

The man was clearly annoyed at being addressed by a woman, but he replied, keeping his eyes on Acton. “It went beyond that. Perhaps she might have been forgiven if it were simply that. Instead, as the story is told, she was betrothed to another of a higher family, and before they could wed, her suicide was faked as a prelude to kidnapping by a Viking prince. Her husband-to-be was enraged and sent a fleet of ships to rescue her. In the end, it was a member of my family, her eldest brother, who discovered the truth.”

Acton lowered his weapon. “That she faked her own suicide and was in love with this Viking, and that there was no kidnapping.”

The man frowned, but nodded. “There was a challenge to settle the matter, lives were lost, and so was the ring that belonged to Fatima’s husband-to-be. What my family didn’t know, what they couldn’t have known, was that this ring was not only a precious family heirloom, handed down from generation to generation, but it was a gift from the Prophet Mohammed himself, peace be upon him. Because of my ancestor Fatima’s selfish actions, for a millennium, my family has carried that shame, and no matter what level of success we’ve attained, only the ring’s return can right the wrong from so long ago, and completely restore our family honor.”

Acton shook his head. “Why didn’t you just ask?”

The man stared at him. “We shouldn’t have to ask for what’s rightfully ours.”

“That very well may be, but if you had applied through proper channels, it would have been returned to you, I’m sure.”

The man regarded him for a moment. “Perhaps in time, but how many infidels would have touched it in between? How many blasphemous fingers would have been thrust through this sacred artifact before it was returned?”

Acton ignored the hate in the man’s voice. This was clearly a zealot, the very worst of what Islam had to offer, and unfortunately, far too common to be excused. “Some, perhaps, though never with the intention of dishonoring it.”

The man spat. “For a thousand years it has been dishonored simply by being on your corrupt soil. Now, it will be returned to holy land, to sacred land, where it will never again be seen by the likes of you.”

Acton sighed. “You know, it was a symbol of love, not hate.” The man seemed unmoved. Acton played another card. “We have Fatima’s remains. If you would like, we can have her returned so she can rest in peace with your family.”

He spat again. “Any woman who would lay with an infidel is not worthy of returning to sacred land.” He stepped closer, his eyes boring into Acton’s. “All I want is the ring.”

Acton shook his head. “So many have died, so many have been hurt, all for something as trivial as a ring, as trivial as family honor for a sin committed over a thousand years ago. Don’t you see anything wrong with that?”

“No, I don’t, and frankly, Professor, I don’t intend to be lectured by you. Though you may have snipers positioned strategically around us, you are vastly outnumbered, and you will die.”

“So will you.”

“Perhaps, but I’m prepared to meet Allah. Are you?”

Acton decided he had pressed his luck far enough, his thirst for answers quenched. He turned to Karlsson. “It’s up to you, Viggo, what do you want to do?”

“G-Give him the damned thing.”

Acton nodded, returning his attention to the sheik. “What assurances do we have that you’ll let us go?”

“None beyond my word.”

Dawson stepped forward. “I’m not sure that’s enough.”

The man regarded the Special Forces operator for a moment. “I am not my government. When an Al-Zayani gives his word, it is enough.”

 Dawson turned his back on the man, lowering his voice. “Your call, Doc. This operation is a Charlie-Foxtrot at the moment. My orders are to get you three out, but once you give up that ring, we have no leverage beyond the sniper teams.”

Acton drew a deep breath. “I’m guessing those orders included not getting captured operating on Muslim soil?”

Dawson grunted. “It was definitely implied.”

Acton eyed him for a moment. “How were we getting out?”

Dawson shook his head. “Best you don’t know.”

Can we get out?”

Dawson glanced over his shoulder at the throng of police and the sheik’s men. “Yes, though maybe not without some casualties.”

Acton regarded him for a moment. “You seem rather confident.”

“I have two sniper teams that these guys aren’t even looking for, and if you notice, the positioning of the cars is intentional. We have cover from two of the three sides, and the doors are reinforced, covering much of the third side.”

Acton glanced uncomfortably at their own position, outside the protected area. “So, we’re the only casualties?”

Dawson smiled slightly. “If the shit hits the fan, hit the ground and roll under the SUV. We’ll provide cover fire. Whatever you do, make sure you concentrate your fire on the sheik’s men. The police are not our enemy here. When our enemy has been eliminated, we’ll surrender to the police if we have to.” He leaned closer. “That all being said, I think the best way out of this is a negotiated one.”

Acton nodded. “I agree.”

Everyone turned as an engine roared, a police car racing onto the scene, a man in full regalia stepping out of the rear, approaching as if he were accustomed to being in charge.

His eyes seized on Acton. “You are Professor James Acton?”

Acton bowed his head slightly. “I am. And you are?”

“I am Chief Al-Numairy. You are under arrest.”

Acton’s eyebrows rose slightly. “On what charge?”

“Armed robbery and attempted murder. I have orders to escort you to the airport for repatriation to Sweden, where you will face these charges.” He paused, and for the first time seemed to notice the sheik and his men. “Who are you?”

“I am Sheik Mohammed Al-Zayani.”

Chief Al-Numairy took a step back, his head lowering in near reverence despite the fact Muslims didn’t bow, all considered equal in the eyes of Allah. This was fear, not respect, and a chill rushed through Acton as he realized why the name sounded familiar. The Al-Zayani clan were an integral part of the Wahabi sect, a sect of Islam responsible for much of the world’s troubles today with their deep pockets and extremely strict interpretations of the Koran.

They were dangerous, and that fact could change everything.

“I’m sorry, I did not realize you were here,” said Al-Numairy, his voice bereft of the confidence it had only moments before. “What, umm, business do you have with these people?”

“They have something of mine.”

Al-Numairy spun toward Acton. “Then give it to him!”

Acton smiled slightly. “It’s not that simple.”

But it could be.

Acton eyed the Delta operators for a moment, thinking of everything they had done for each other over the years, and how their being caught here could cause serious problems not only for them, but their country.

And he came to a decision.

“I will happily return the item, under several conditions.”

Al-Zayani glared at him, his jaw clenched. “And those are?”

“First, that Chief Al-Numairy is allowed to fulfill his sworn duty and arrest myself and my wife and return us to Sweden.”

“And?”

“And that you immediately let my friends leave. Their only crime was trying to save us from your men.” Acton chose his words carefully, family honor clearly important to the sheik. “None of this would have been necessary if those you trusted had handled the situation better. I’m certain you didn’t want any of what has happened to actually occur. I’m certain you gave clear instructions to recover the ring, and those instructions were executed poorly. If we’re all willing to acknowledge that it was those you hired, who now lie dead at the Burj Khalifa, already facing Allah for His judgment for their misdeeds, then this can all be settled peacefully. Agreed?”

Al-Zayani regarded him for a moment, while Al-Numairy stared at both him and Acton, unsure of what to make of the proceedings, but wisely keeping his mouth shut.

Al-Zayani finally sighed. “You are right, of course, Professor, that my family did not want any of this to occur. As long as it is agreeable to Chief Al-Numairy, then I will agree to your request that your friends may leave.”

Dawson put a hand on Acton’s shoulder and a mouth to his ear. “What are you doing? We’re not leaving without you.”

Acton turned his head, lowering his voice. “We don’t have a choice. You guys leave and get clear. These police officers have nothing to do with what’s been happening. They’re going to arrest us, take us to the airport, and put us on the first plane back to Stockholm.”

“Assuming everyone keeps their word.”

“Yes, but if they don’t, then they were never going to, and we’re probably all dead regardless. If we did manage to survive, it would be to spend the rest of our days in some prison somewhere.”

Dawson shook his head. “I can’t agree to this.”

“You have to.” Acton patted him on the shoulder. “Save your men. And if things go south, don’t risk your lives to save us. This is my stupid decision.”

Laura leaned into the conversation. “Ours. Get out of here, but take Viggo with you.”

Acton turned to Al-Zayani before Dawson could object further. “I want you to let them take my friend. Professor Karlsson has no idea where the ring is, and needs medical help. Let my friends provide that to him.”

The sheik turned to Al-Numairy. “Is he under arrest?”

Al-Numairy shook his head, still confused. “No, just these two.”

“And the others?”

“If they’re responsible for what happened at the Burj Khalifa, then I can’t—”

Al-Zayani cut him off. “Those that were killed worked for me. I understand they had an internal dispute and turned on each other.”

The chief’s jaw dropped at the ridiculous story. “Umm, okay. And the, umm, explosion?”

Dawson cleared his throat. “A gas leak, I would assume.”

Al-Numairy’s head bobbed rapidly, pleased with the lie being spun. “Yes, yes, of course. If this is the case, which I’m sure it is, then no, we have no reason to arrest these men. They may go.” He waved his hands at the Delta team. “They must go.”

Acton turned to Dawson and pointed at Karlsson. “Take him and your men, and get to safety.”

Dawson shook his head slowly. “I still think this is a mistake.”

“It may be, but just tell your superiors that I refused to cooperate.” He grinned. “They know me, it isn’t exactly out of character.”

Dawson chuckled. “You do have a point.” He became serious. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

He turned to Laura. “And you?”

“Save yourselves. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you or your men because of us.”

Dawson chewed his cheek for a moment. “Fine. We’ll do it your way.”

The tension in Acton’s shoulders eased slightly. “Good. Now get out of here before they change their minds.”

Sherrie shook Acton’s hand then Laura’s. “Good luck, Professors.” She climbed into the driver’s seat as Dawson pointed at the SUV Karlsson had arrived in.

“Get him inside. We’re leaving, now.” He shook both their hands. “Just remember. If the shit hits the fan, hit the deck.”

Acton nodded. “Good advice at any time.”

Dawson slapped him on the shoulder then climbed into Sherrie’s SUV as Atlas and Niner helped Karlsson into the back seat of the second vehicle. Within moments, both SUVs were slowly pulling away, the crowd of police parting for them, nobody quite believing what was taking place.

Acton held his breath, silently praying for this minor miracle to not fall apart, then suppressed a smile as they added a bit of speed, clearing the area, their taillights disappearing in the distance.

Laura took his hand, squeezing it, as they now stood alone, facing far too many guns, with no cover to hide behind should the sheik not keep his word.

Al-Zayani turned to him. “Now, Professor, it’s your turn.”

Acton nodded and Laura pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. He took it and stepped forward, holding it out for Al-Zayani. The man snapped his fingers and one of his men rushed forward, snatching it from Acton, then handing it to his master.

He doesn’t even want indirect contact with us infidels.

“What is this?” asked Al-Zayani, holding up the paper.

“The claim number for the message we sent.”

“And how do I claim it?”

“Just go to Western Union, give them the name of the Chargé D’affaires in Stockholm, Abdullah Al-Jubeir, as well as that claim number, and the password.”

Al-Zayani growled. “I don’t have time for this.”

“You’ll have to make the time. This is the deal. It takes you time to get the ring, and that allows us to get to the airport and on a plane to safety. Everybody wins. Eventually.”

“What is the password?”

Acton smiled. “Charlie-Foxtrot.” It had been a lie that they had split the code, an on the fly bluff that had become necessary when it was clear things weren’t going to go their way back at the Burj Khalifa. “Now you have all you need. Can we go with the police chief?”

Al-Zayani ignored him, one of his men stepping forward, his phone in hand. Words were exchanged, then the paper was taken and a call made. He returned a few minutes later as Acton and Laura stood, the tension in the air palpable as no one spoke, and Acton’s question remained unanswered.

His heart sank as a piece of paper was handed over, and he realized what was going on.

They were doing everything over the phone, and not in person as he had expected.

And it made sense.

Everything was done over the phone now, so why not message retrieval? With the claim number and the code, there was no reason for anyone to suspect anything untoward was happening. He should have thought of that, but was a product of his generation, forgetting there was an app for everything.

There goes a perfect plan.

Al-Zayani held up the paper. “What’s this number?”

Acton sighed, deciding it was best to go with the truth. “It’s a FedEx package number. Just have your man track it, and it will tell you where I sent the package. Mr. Al-Jubeir can pick it up. It’s in his name.”

The phone expert once again took over, and his eyes widened. “It’s at the Nobis Hotel in Stockholm.”

Acton smiled slightly as Al-Zayani realized the ring had been at the hotel they were staying at the entire time. Before clearing security in Stockholm, they had hatched their plan, deciding couriering it to their hotel’s front desk was safest—not to mention it was the only address they knew in the city. “That’s right. It’s being held at the front desk. Mr. Al-Jubeir—”

Al-Zayani barked orders in Arabic, and a wave of trepidation washed over Acton. He had expected things to flow much slower than they were, giving them time to get to the airport and the hell out of Dodge, but none of that was happening.

His plan was failing.

Spectacularly.

“They’re calling Stockholm,” muttered Laura.

“Yeah. Do you think they have someone at our hotel?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them. And the embassy is only a few minutes away regardless. What do we do if they get the ring before we get a chance to leave?”

Acton shook his head slightly. “I’m not sure. Hope he keeps his word?”

“Do you think he will?”

“I have no idea.” He lowered his voice further. “I still have my gun.”

“So do I, but neither of us have enough bullets and enough luck for that to work out.”

Acton grunted. “It all depends on how scared this police chief is of the sheik. He has more guns here.”

“I think he’s petrified of the man. He’ll be useless if this goes sideways.”

Acton frowned. “Agreed.” He was now regretting sending Dawson away, though in his heart of hearts he knew it was still the right thing to have done. Karlsson was safe now, and so were the operators who had become such good friends. If anyone was dying tonight, it would only be him and Laura. He took her hand and squeezed it three times.

I. Love. You.

She returned the discrete message, leaning a little closer to him as everyone waited. A shout of triumph erupted from the man on the phone, and smiles abounded as apparently the ring had been retrieved successfully.

Acton stepped slightly closer to the police chief, bringing Laura with him. “I assume you have what is yours?”

Al-Zayani nodded. “We do.”

“And we’re free to go?”

Al-Zayani pursed his lips. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that.”

Acton tensed. “I thought we had a deal.”

Al-Zayani laughed. “Professor Acton, what do you think is going on here? When your friend was invited to the embassy and refused to hand over the ring, his fate was sealed. He was on a plane here before you even knew he was missing, thus avoiding any problems like were encountered in Istanbul. He was our leverage to get the ring. We hadn’t yet figured out who we were going to use, then you stormed into our embassy, inserting yourself into the situation. The moment you did that, your fate was sealed as well.”

“If that fate is death, then why did you let Karlsson go?”

“Did I really let him go? I have many followers in Sweden. One word from me, and he’s dead.”

Acton shook his head. “I thought the word of an Al-Zayani was enough?”

Al-Zayani smiled. “When dealing with a Muslim, yes, but as the Koran teaches us, lying to the kafir is permitted.” He snapped his fingers as he turned, heading for his vehicle. “Kill them.”

Weapons rose as Acton spun, diving toward Laura and knocking her to the ground. The sand between them was suddenly torn apart by dozens of rounds, sending police and hostiles alike scattering. Acton took advantage, grabbing Laura by the hand and racing for the cover of the police chief’s vehicle parked nearby.

And as they took cover, his chest ached with the pride he felt at this very moment as he realized Dawson and his men had never abandoned them, and were instead still nearby, protecting them as they so often did.

Another siren wailed in the distance and Acton glanced over his shoulder to see several police vehicles speeding toward the scene as the gunfire stopped, the police chief giving orders for his men to hold their fire, the hostiles peering into the darkness, trying to find the Delta team, made all the more difficult by six sets of headlights illuminating everything.

The new arrivals skidded to a halt, the doors opening and a new set of police arriving.

And one familiar voice.

“What the bloody hell is going on here?”

Acton’s chest heaved with relief at the sound of their friend, Hugh Reading. His booming voice silenced the confusion that threatened to erupt into an all-out gun battle in the Mexican standoff in which they found themselves.

Someone with Reading began shouting orders in Arabic as their friend spotted them.

But there was no smile, just a glare.

He marched over to them. “Professors Acton and Palmer, at the request of the Swedish Police Authority, and under the authority granted me by Interpol, I am hereby placing you under arrest for armed robbery and attempted murder.”

Acton, still taking cover behind the police chief’s car with Laura, stared up at him, not sure what to say.

“Get on your bloody feet!”

Acton stood, his gun gripped in his hand.

“Drop that, you daft bastard!” hissed Reading.

Acton complied, kicking it under the vehicle as Laura did the same with hers. Reading motioned to some of the new arrivals, who quickly cuffed them. He leaned closer, his voice low. “Keep your mouths shut. You don’t know me.”

Acton said nothing as they were led to Reading’s car, an argument erupting behind them. A shot rang out and Reading shoved them both to the ground, covering Laura with his body as more weapons opened fire behind them.

Acton twisted to see what was happening, his view blocked by the chief’s car, all he could see were the feet of those still alive, and the bodies of those already taken out.

Sniper rifles belched deadly lead in the distance as Bravo Team joined the fight, and Acton watched as man after man of the sheik’s team were felled, the gunfire dwindling until there was none.

Reading immediately rose, still crouched over, and ushered them into the car. “Let’s get to the airport, now!”

The driver stared at him, clearly unsure of what to do. One of the men Reading had arrived with shouted at the driver and the car was put into gear. Within moments, the scene was behind them, the surviving police left to deal with the mess and the lies that had been told to save them.

But they weren’t safe yet.