72

LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

At precisely 3 p.m. Eastern, the video was released on the Al-Sawt network.

Simultaneously, it was uploaded to YouTube.

None of the senior staff gathered in the new director’s seventh-floor corner office was surprised that Abu Nakba had taken the money and not released the women. This was exactly what Dell, Marcus, and Annie had told Hernandez was likely to happen. Still, the sheer horror of seeing Hannah Weiss and Mia Minetti being shot to death so coldly was more revolting than anything they’d personally witnessed in wartime, much less in a time of peace.

Marcus’s jaw clenched as he focused on the figure that he suspected was Badr Hassan al-Ruzami, though his face was covered. He tried to dissociate from the cruelty itself. He searched for any clue that might give them a location and thus a target. But there was nothing.

His blood boiled as he watched Tanya Brighton tied to the flagpole, doused with gasoline, and set ablaze. He had seen terrible things in his life and in this job. But nothing had prepared him to look upon men smiling while they engaged in acts of such wickedness. Every instinct in his body wanted to look away, as Annie now did. Or leave the room, as two other staffers did. Yet Marcus forced himself to watch. It was his duty, he told himself, especially as Ruzami said, “We are coming for you—all of you—every enemy of Allah shall burn. You have been warned.”

When he saw the man draw his dagger, however, and cut away the rag and pull it out of her mouth, toss it into the fire, and walk out of the picture, he knew what was coming, and this was more than he could bear. He did turn away as the flames engulfed Tanya, but it hardly shielded him. The screams that followed were unlike anything Marcus had ever heard before, unlike any sound he’d thought a human capable of making.

Dell suddenly shot out of her chair and into her private restroom and vomited.