"What are you talking about? You just shot-"

"I put a bullet in the ground beside Griffin," Troy explained, "then I knocked him out. He's got a nasty gash in the side of his head, like the one you gave this guy. But he's fine. The gunshot was for this guy," Troy said, nodding at the man on the ground. "Got him talking pretty fast, didn't it?"

"Yeah, it did," Jack agreed, relief spreading through his body.

"Where's the money?" Troy demanded, pointing at the man on the ground.

"What money?" he asked defiantly.

The guy was suddenly p.i.s.sed, Jack realized. p.i.s.sed that he'd been fooled so badly and probably ashamed of how terrified he'd been.

Troy aimed his gun down at the man's chest. "Where's the money?" he asked again.

For a few moments the man remained defiant, even sticking his chin out a little. But then his att.i.tude faded. He wasn't up for taking chances like Griffin had.

"That's where we were before we came back here, getting the money. We hid it off-site. Wayne was worried that the people pulling the strings might try to get it back. So he didn't want it here."

Troy nodded approvingly. "He was smarter than I thought."

"He was worried the people who gave it to us might try to kill us, too, to cover their tracks. He told Charlie to be real careful while we were gone." The man nodded at the truck. "It's in the back."

Troy gestured at Jack. "Go look."

Jack hustled to the back of the pickup, pulled the tailgate down, and hopped up into the bay. A large metal toolbox extended from side to side just behind the cab, and he unclasped the latch and pulled the top up. The box was filled with hundred-dollar bills.

"Jackpot," he muttered. "What are we going to do with all this?"

"COME ON, Drexel," John Ward called softly to the big golden retriever as he climbed out of his jeep and into the darkness of the overcast night. "Come on down, boy."

The dog barked softly as it jumped from the back of the jeep onto the driver's seat and then to the ground.

Ward knelt down and smiled as the dog nuzzled him with its soft, wet nose. "I'm going to miss you, boy."

Ward was heading for Dutch Harbor, Alaska, in a few hours to meet up with the crew of a crab boat that would take him to a submarine waiting for him in the middle of the Bering Sea. He and a Red Cell Seven subordinate were going into North Korea to pick up data from a friend in-country about progress the Koreans were making on developing nuclear weapons. Then they were planning to a.s.sa.s.sinate two of the nation's top nuclear scientists before stealing a fishing vessel and, hopefully, meeting another American sub in the Sea of j.a.pan, which would drop them back off to that same crab boat in the Bering Sea ten days from now. It would be Ward's fifty-seventh covert mission into some piece of communist-controlled Asia.

"Some kind of a life I've chosen, huh, boy?" he mumbled to the dog as it continued to nuzzle him. "Not much I can do about it now, though, is there? I'm just glad Bill Jensen showed me the Order. I was getting a little worried about-"

The bullet smashed into Ward's head just above the left ear, and he tumbled over without even a moan, dead.

THROUGH THE night-vision scope Skylar watched the golden retriever sniff John Ward's dead body. They were beautiful dogs, but they weren't the smartest. Still, she loved them, and she was glad she hadn't hit the animal. She'd aimed carefully and waited for the animal to clear so she wouldn't.

She lowered the rifle as she emerged from the tree line and jogged toward Ward's body. These men had killed her sister, and the revenge had just begun.

She hadn't even considered confronting Ward and interrogating him. She knew better. No matter what she did to him, he wouldn't break. And prolonging his death would only give him a chance to turn the tables on her.

It hadn't taken Skylar long to a.s.semble Kodiak Four's core team, and several more Red Cell Seven agents would die tonight after the missions were successful. K-4, as she'd nicknamed Kodiak Four, would need more warm bodies if they were going to take out all of the more than two hundred RC7 agents quickly. But recruits wouldn't be hard to find. Men always wanted to work for the president of the United States.

Word would get out quickly that a war was on. And then things would get hot very fast. After that, eliminating names from the list Stewart Baxter had given her at Camp David wouldn't be anywhere near as straightforward. RC7 would dive for cover, and then it would become a much more deliberate process. Still, she'd win in the end. And then she'd get to see her father.

It still shocked her that he was alive-if he really was. And therein lay the dilemma. She still hadn't decided if she could trust the president.

As Drexel nuzzled her neck, she knelt down and went through Ward's pockets. Her eyes narrowed as she pulled the paper from his shirt, unfolded it, and stared at what was written there in the light from a tiny flashlight.

She shook her head in disbelief. John Ward had been careless. Out of nowhere, a huge opportunity had just fallen into her lap.

And she would take full advantage.

"I DON'T get it," Jack said, glancing into the SUV's rearview mirror. The headlights behind him were from Wayne Griffin's F-150. Troy was driving, and they'd been talking on the phone since leaving the farm a few minutes ago. "Why would Jennie do this? It makes no sense. She's a good person."

"I can't believe it, either."

They'd taken Wayne and the other guy to a second-floor bedroom of the farmhouse and secured them tightly together in a closet-they weren't going anywhere. They'd come back for them later-or send someone. Right now finding Karen and Little Jack was the priority.

"I guess," Troy added softly.

"What does that mean?" Jack demanded.

"I'll tell you later."

So Troy had suspicions, too. That was interesting.

"She must know something about Karen being taken, too," Jack pointed out as they drove. "That's where Karen was headed when I put her in the cab at JFK. She was going to see Jennie. If Jennie's involved in L.J.'s kidnapping, she must be involved in Karen's as well."

"Yes."

"I knew I shouldn't have let Karen go into the city by herself."

"It's not your fault, Jack," Troy said firmly. "I needed you, and you came right away. You cannot feel guilty for leaving Karen by herself. There's no way either of us could ever have predicted Jennie turning on us."

It was horrible for Jack to know that Jennie was involved, but at least they had a solid lead to go on now. And Troy seemed very confident that they'd be able to track Jennie down quickly even if she was nowhere near her apartment in Manhattan, though he hadn't explained why or how.

"It's coming up on the right," Troy said loudly. "There it is. Pull in and park in the lot as soon as you turn in. I'll pick you up."

Jack did as ordered, then hopped into the pa.s.senger side of Griffin's F-150. A few moments later they skidded to a stop in front of a shelter for homeless children.

"May I help you?" an elderly, gray-haired woman asked as she came through the front door.

"We're here to make a donation," Jack answered as he hopped to the ground, then headed to the back of the pickup and climbed into the bay with Troy.

Together they lugged the toolbox to the back of the bay, and then lowered it to the ground after they'd jumped back down to the pavement.

"What kind of donation is this?" the woman asked suspiciously as she moved hesitantly toward the box while Troy lifted the top.

"Take a look."

For several moments the woman peered down at the pile of cash, unable to comprehend. Finally, she put her hands to her mouth. "How much is in there?"

"Almost two hundred thousand dollars."

"Oh, my G.o.d," she gasped.

"You can have the truck, too," Troy said as he reached out and pulled Jack's arm. "Come on, let's go."

"Why'd we park all the way out here?" Jack asked as they sprinted across the parking lot toward the SUV. Behind them the woman was shouting her appreciation.

"So our donation was perfect. So it was anonymous. So that woman can't get the license tag of this vehicle and call the cops in case she gets to wondering how we came into all that cash. We don't have time for anything like that right now."

Jack nodded to himself as he hopped in the SUV and they peeled off. Troy was always thinking.

CHAPTER 32.

BILL FINISHED the brief phone call with a sharp curse under his breath. "We've got a situation, Shane," he said gravely as he pushed "end call" hard with his thumb.

Maddux glanced up. He'd been staring at the .44 Magnum he'd just slid across the table toward Bill. "What is it?"

"We've got two RC7 agents down."

"Down?"

"Dead."

"Where?"

"One in DC, one outside London."

"Who?"

"Spencer Boggs in DC, Derek Malone outside London."

It was Maddux's turn to curse. "Good guys, great guys. Worse, both were very valuable agents, especially Boggs when it came to sabotage. What happened?"

"Both were shot in the head from long range," Bill answered bitterly as his phone rang a second time.

"What now?" Maddux asked when Bill ended the second call.

"John Ward's been shot, too," Bill said grimly.

He'd known John for sixteen years. They'd been through so much together. It was always difficult when this news came. To a certain extent, he'd gotten used to it over the years. But not this time, not with Ward.

"Is he-"

"Yes, he's dead."

"Who was on the phone?" Maddux asked, gesturing at the phone Bill had put down on the tabletop beside the .44. "Who were you talking to?"

"One of the a.s.sociates I've stayed in touch with during all this." Bill shut his eyes tightly. "d.a.m.n it. John was such a good man."

"The best," Maddux muttered as he slammed the tabletop with his fist, causing the gun and the phone to jump in tandem. "A lot of Americans are alive today because of John's courage and commitment to this country, specifically because of the missions he ran in Asia. If he hadn't, bombs would have been detonated and people would have died. They have no idea what he sacrificed so they could blab on their iPhones while they drive their Beemers in bliss and ignorance through the greatest country in the world," Maddux said, getting more worked up with each word. "These are not coincidental killings, Bill. We are at war with the executive branch of the United States."

"I'm afraid you're right. This has President Dorn written all over it."

"With Baxter executing."

"Baxter might be executing it, but he's doing it on direct orders from Dorn."

Maddux's eyes opened wide. "Dorn's going around the Order, Bill. He's going around the Supreme Court and avoiding our immunity. He's thumbing his nose at it and the justices. He's starting a war that we'll have no way of officially connecting him to. That has to be what's going on here."

Bill nodded. Maddux was right. He hated to think it, but you had to give credit where credit was due. It was an excellent move. Dorn knew there were elements inside RC7 who wanted him dead. It was a very rational, very strategic action on his part. He was going on offense instead of backpedaling against what he knew was a deadly force. You could never win if you were always on defense.

"Dorn's always hated Red Cell Seven," Bill muttered, "even before you tried to kill him in LA. That little charade he played last fall about supporting us even though he'd been shot was exactly that, a charade designed to make us relax. And the man's too much of a control addict to give Baxter a free hand. Plus, he thinks he's bulletproof with that sky-high approval rating."

"Which we got for him by stopping the Holiday Mall Attacks," Maddux grumbled resentfully. "If it really is Dorn behind this, he's gone completely out of his mind."

"He's been out of his mind," Bill snapped. "He's been a complete coward about dealing with terrorists ever since he was elected. He let us do the dirty work behind the scenes while he placated all the bleeding hearts in his const.i.tuency."

"Amen."

"Carlson must have kept a list of RC7 agents at his house in Georgetown," Bill said. "And when Baxter sent his people to the house last fall after Carlson died, they probably found that list, along with the other original Order. Before they murdered Nancy," he added bitterly. "That's the only way I can think of this happening. We're too careful."

"I thought there was only one official list of Red Cell Seven agents," Maddux said deliberately. "And you kept it."

"That's the way it's supposed to be." Bill saw suspicion rising in Maddux's expression. "The list is in my room," he said, gesturing over his shoulder. He wasn't about to let that look smolder. If he did, he might be the next member of RC7 to die, even if he was the cell's leader. "You want to see it?"

Maddux stared across the table for a few moments. "I don't know. Do I?"

It was always best to go at Maddux directly on matters like this. You couldn't let a thing like this fester with him and allow him to draw his own conclusions. Maddux was a man of action, and just like everyone in the world, sometimes he got things wrong. Bill didn't want this to be one of those times.

"And you've been monitoring every call I've made in the last nine months," Bill added accusingly. "Don't think I don't know that, Shane."

Maddux's gaze dropped slightly. "Yeah, well-"

"Have I called anyone who made you wonder?"

Maddux shook his head. "No."

Bill took a relieved breath, confident he'd defused Maddux's suspicions. "Carlson must have kept a list of our people, too, at least a partial one. After all, he ran Red Cell Seven before me. Unfortunately, I think the people who murdered Nancy and got the Order must have found the list at the same time."

"If that's true," Maddux answered ominously, "we're all at risk."

Bill nodded. "Yup."

"Then I've gotta get to something right away," Maddux said, standing up as he pointed at the weapon lying beside Bill's phone. "You stay here and keep that gun on you at all times. Don't even go to the can without it."