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Marcus saw no one else—yet.

But he was certain reinforcements would be coming quickly. Marcus now threw the hatch wide and climbed through the opening, finding himself in a bunkroom of sorts. No sooner was he on his feet than another armed man came around the corner and through the door. Marcus double-tapped him as well.

Moving quickly to the doorway, Marcus made sure both men were dead, then reloaded while Callaghan came up behind him. Together, they pivoted into the hallway, Marcus facing east, Callaghan facing west. Marcus found no one ahead of him but heard his colleague fire twice, also from a silenced pistol.

When the rest of the team were through the hatch and ready to move, they spread out in two directions. Marcus took Jenny. Callaghan took Geoff. Pete again hung back to provide backup to either team, or medical assistance if, God forbid, it was needed. Now back at ground level, their comms were working again. Pete was in charge of calling the Global Ops Center and providing Dell with a situation report and their precise coordinates. He was told one of the FBI’s tactical teams was less than five minutes away, which he immediately radioed to the others.

Callaghan soon radioed back that he and Geoff had cleared a series of additional bunkrooms but found no one else there. They were now retracing their steps and would link up with the others momentarily.

Marcus and Jenny, however, were radio silent. As they came around the corner, up a flight of stairs, and through a closed wooden door, they found themselves entering a kitchen that was connected to a spacious if sparse dining facility where a half-dozen armed men were eating and drinking. It was clear that the men had not heard anything that had happened on the floor below them. The stunned looks on their faces told Marcus all he needed to know. But as they moved for their weapons, Marcus switched from the Glock to the M4. He fired two bursts to the left as Jenny followed suit, firing two bursts to the right. Each felled a man, but only wounding, not killing, either. Both Marcus and Jenny got off another burst each but had to back through the door and down the stairs as the return fire now came hot and heavy.

The door was being shredded to pieces. Splinters flew everywhere. Marcus and Jenny continued backward into the hallway. They were met by Callaghan and Geoff. Marcus motioned for each to step into a different bedroom and wait. It was the right move and just in time. They heard a grenade clattering down the stairs, followed by an explosion that knocked them all to the floor. Blinded by smoke and dust and covered in bits of concrete and drywall, Marcus knew he had to stay quiet and get back on his feet. But he started coughing violently and could not stop.

Just then, he heard boots rushing down the stairs. An instant later, he heard automatic gunfire in the hallway. But this was an AK-47, not an M4. Then he heard another grenade rattling down the hallway. Grabbing Jenny, he threw her into a side room and pushed her to the ground, covering her with his own body. This second explosion rattled the building and brought more smoke and dust surging into the bunkroom where Marcus lay, his back in severe pain, covered in rubble, ears ringing, and struggling to get back up.

Rolling off Jenny, he could see wires dangling from the ceiling, sparking wildly. Water from a burst pipe was spraying everywhere. A silhouette suddenly appeared in what was left of the doorway. Was it one of his or one of theirs? Marcus saw a weapon coming up. It was aiming at Jenny. Marcus grabbed his pistol and fired six shots. The figure collapsed to the floor.

He felt around in the dark for his own M4, and when he found it, he pulled it close to his chest, then scrambled to his feet and holstered his Glock again. Then he reached down and grabbed Jenny’s hand and pulled her up. He motioned for her to follow him. They were going hunting again.

The firefight in the hallway was brutal. But by the time the FBI arrived, it was over. Marcus and his team were all standing. Filthy. Exhausted. But alive and largely uninjured.

There was just one problem.

Two, actually.

All of the men they’d just encountered were Mexican drug runners, not Kairos operatives. They were on the payroll of Joaquín María del Castillo, not Abu Nakba.

And all of them were dead.

Marcus had no witnesses. There were no CCTV cameras on the premises. No files. No computers. Nothing to tell them where the Kairos operatives had gone or what they had in their possession.