The whole hour leading up to 3pm, I had been fighting an internal battle. I wanted so much to trust Jason, to believe he was the man he said he was. To believe that someone like him could really fall for someone like me. But there was this little voice in my head telling me it was all too good to be true. That it was all part of some scam he and Warick were running. I was probably going to end up dead; either that or they would find some way to pin the whole thing on me the same way Warick had with poor Aquil.

At the exact time I should have been completely focused on the operation and bringing in Warick and his men, all I could think about was whether or not I was being taken for a ride by Agent Jason Kern.

The explosion, when it came, blew me at least four feet through the air. I think I hit the back of my head on a desk where I landed and my ears were ringing when I eventually came to. I saw Jason limp toward me, and I realized he was trying to speak to me, but I couldn’t hear a thing. Over his shoulder, I could see a body on the floor—one of Warick’s men—but he wasn’t moving.

The ringing started to subside, and I heard Jason asking me if I was OK.

“I think I'm OK,” I replied. Even in my confusion, an idea was trying to force itself to the surface. Was there something I needed to remember? Something I needed to tell Jason about?

“Was that a bomb?” I asked, somehow feeling like this was important.

Jason laughed at me. “Yes, Christine. That was a bomb.”

Suddenly, like a real lightbulb, the idea, or more, the warning, popped into my head. “In that case, shouldn't we get out of here? Don't they set fire to it next?”

Jason pulled me to my feet and toward the windows, which seemed to be the quickest and safest route out of the building. As I stood recovering my composure, Jason and Henri were talking about the operation, and how many of Warick’s men they had picked up.

I watched Jason as he spoke, blood trickling down the side of his face from a wound apparently hidden under his hair; he had obviously hurt his knee, too, as he stood rather tentatively on his left leg. If he was in on this whole thing, then I think it was safe to say that Warick had well and truly burned him—literally and metaphorically. Wasn’t it far more likely that he’d been telling me the truth all along? That Warick had fooled him the way he had fooled half the world?

I had misjudged him, and I felt awful for it.

Worst of all, Henri was now giving him the bad news that Warick had slipped through their net, shooting a local police officer while he made his getaway. I knew that Jason was going to insist on going after him, and I knew that I was going to help him. I owed him that much for not trusting him.

We headed down the side of the building, toward the alley at the rear. We had lost vital minutes already while pulling ourselves out of the building, but I knew Jason would scour the whole city, twice over, if need be. Warick was alone now. His men were in custody, one in the hospital. He had no one he could turn to for help.

“Do you think he’d go back to the house where he held you and Aquil?” I asked as we trotted along the alley, guns raised. Jason didn’t answer for a moment.

“I don’t know where he’d go, Christine,” he said sadly. “Let’s be honest, I’m the wrong person to try and figure out Warick’s motives. I’ve known the man for three years; we went out for dinner—he gave me a birthday present last year! If I couldn’t spot that he was a criminal who was playing me all the time, then I don’t have much chance of figuring out where he’s hiding.”

Throughout this whole investigation, I had never seen Jason so negative, so defeated.

“He won’t go back to the hotel,” I answered, trying to rouse him into action, trying to give him some hope. “I think our only chance is to try the old house. Maybe he left stuff there he wants to take with him.”

Jason nodded. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

We took the back streets to the quiet alley where Warick’s base was located, assuming that he, too, would have avoided the main roads. Henri and his officers were also scouring the city, and the chances were, his face would be plastered on every TV screen and at every airport and train station by now. His options were limited, but that could also be bad news. He had nothing to lose now, and men who had nothing to lose took crazy chances.

The building that we both now knew so well came into view. Jason waved a hand to hold me back, checking the street left and right. “Clear,” he called, and we both moved forward cautiously.

You could have heard a pin drop in this silent street; it seemed a world away from the explosions and sirens and gunfire. Had it really only been a few minutes ago that Jason and I had been caught up in that hell?

I gestured with my gun for Jason to take the far side of the door. He hesitated for a moment at the entry, peering around the doorframe to check he was safe to go, before making the short sprint to the other side. We both stood for a moment, getting our breath. I was just beginning to think we were on a wild goose chase when I heard a thump from one of the upper floors. Jason’s eyes widened—he had obviously heard it, too—and before I could say or do anything, he had darted inside.

I was barely inside the door, and Jason had already made it to the foot of the stairs. If I didn’t find some way to calm him down, Warick wasn’t the only one who was going to take crazy chances—and that could end up getting us both killed.

“Jason,” I whispered almost soundlessly, but it was another way to get his attention. I used my gun to gesture toward the two of us, as if to say, “we go up together.” Jason took a moment to think, then nodded, waving me forward.

I looked up at the stairs above us. This was going to be a nightmare. The building was almost falling down; I could guarantee every one of those steps was going to creak and groan the second we put a foot on them.

Jason leaned in close, and my heart started beating just a little faster. “We aren’t going to be able to surprise him,” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear. “Are there any other ways down?” I shook my head. “Then we have him trapped,” Jason continued, as if what we were trying to do was suddenly the easiest thing in the world.

I pulled away for a moment, and moved my own lips close to his ear. “Just run for it?” I asked. Jason nodded. Well, I guess he had a point. If we didn’t have the element of surprise, then we had to make it quick.

Jason held up three fingers on the hand not holding his gun and started to count them down. I felt sick with fear and excitement. This was like nothing I’d ever trained for; certainly nothing I’d ever done in live operations. Running into what could be a trap; what could be, at best, an armed, cornered, and dangerous criminal. I wished I had taken the chance to tell Jason I was sorry, to tell him I was falling in love with him—but the countdown was over, and the two of us were running like bats out of hell up the stairs.

I was running so hard, all I could hear were our feet thundering on the stairs. We paused at the first floor, and heard the noise of a door opening further up. “Higher,” Jason shouted, no longer needing to hide from Warick that we were coming to get him.

We continued up to the top floor, which had only three small rooms, but there was no sign of Warick. How could he have disappeared? If he had found another way down, he would be long gone, and I feared we would never find him.

Jason suddenly nudged me and pointed up at the ceiling. There was an attic! He pulled at the cord on the trapdoor, which slid open, revealing a ramshackle ladder. Jason took a few tentative steps, bracing himself to poke his head through the gaping hole. The phrase ‘shooting fish in a barrel’ came to mind, and I almost pulled Jason back down to the floor.

Finally, he took his chance to scan the room above. I held my breath. No gunfire. Jason looked down at me and I nodded; I would follow him up.

The attic was roomier than I had expected; a huge cavernous space, dotted with pieces of furniture. To my left, the roof had caved in, allowing sunlight to flood the attic. The hole was so big, you could see clear out onto the flatter roof that edged the building. I grabbed Jason by the arm; that must be where Warick had gone! He must be trying to hide out there, or maybe jump to the next building. I pulled Jason with me toward the hole; as soon as he saw where I was headed, I could see the penny drop with him, too.

We edged out onto the roof. Warick was perched on the edge, his back to us, almost as if he was about to jump. Surely, he wouldn’t make it that easy for us?

“Warick!” Jason yelled out. “Show me your hands!”

I was surprised to see Warick oblige, lifting his arms out to either side like Christ on the cross. He turned, smiling.

“Jason, my good friend,” he said mockingly. “How wonderful to see you again.”

I watched the two men carefully. I had to give Warick all my attention, but I was worried about what Jason was going to do.

“You’re coming with us, Warick,” Jason called across the roof, edging closer. “There’s nowhere you can go, just, please come quietly.”

“Ah, he said please,” Warick went on, speaking to me now. “Such a well behaved young man, isn’t he? He wasn’t so polished when I met him; a bit rough around the edges. But he loved spending time with me and my friends; he just loved learning from us.” He paused, smirking. “Almost a father figure to you, wasn’t I, dear boy?”

Jason’s hand was shaking as he fought to stay in control. Was Warick trying to goad him into shooting?

“Quiet!” I commanded, trying to exercise some control over the situation. “Hands up in the air, Warick. Now!”

Warick was paying no attention to me; his entire attention was focused on Jason.

“And he was such a good friend to me, weren’t you, Jason? Always happy to chat about his work, his big case. And always so grateful for my help. Never realizing all this time that I was feeding him the information I wanted him to have—while taking from him what I needed to know to stay one step ahead.”

He laughed. “You know, I was only going to use that little Muslim chap once? Only Jason here got so excited when he thought he was on to some big terrorist cell, that I didn’t have the heart to let him down.”

I could see Jason gripping his gun tighter and tighter. Any second now, I thought, he’s going to squeeze that trigger and shoot an unarmed man right off the roof. It would be the end of his career; it would be the end of us.

“Jason, don’t let him get to you,” I tried to soothe him, but his attention was focused only on Warick. “Jason, look at me,” I pleaded.

His gaze shifted onto me. “He needs to die, Christine,” he said, his eyes filling with tears.

“No,” I answered. “He needs to pay for what he’s done. Death isn’t a punishment.”

Just as Jason relaxed his grip, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Warick had slid a tiny pistol from his sleeve and was aiming it straight at us. I had less than a second to react. I fired my gun, not really aiming, and hit him in his gun hand, just above the wrist.

Warick screamed in pain, the gun falling from his hand. He fell to his knees, cradling his injured arm to his chest. I breathed out slowly, and turned back to Jason—but he was already advancing on the stricken Warick, gun outstretched, finger on the trigger.

“Jason, stop! Please!” I called. He stopped walking, standing just a few feet from Warick, the barrel of his gun barely inches from the older man’s face.

I held my breath. I had spent the last two days doubting this man; doubting his every move and motive. Please, I thought to myself, please don’t let me down now.

“Cuff him,” he said quietly; so quietly, it took me a moment to react. I moved around behind Warick and restrained him, making him cry out in pain again.

You were lucky, I thought.