Voland did not reply; he just looked down at the floor.

Drexler took the barrel of his pistol, put it under the older man’s chin, and pushed up, lifting Voland’s face up to meet his own. The men made eye contact.

“Say it,” Drexler said. “Who do you work for?”

“I . . . I work for you, Monsieur Drexler.”

The Swiss agent pulled the pistol away and holstered it. “Go.”

Vincent Voland looked back down, and he did not lift his eyes from the floor as he followed Boyer and Novak towards the back door.

Voland had only made it a few steps when the man at the front of the first commando at the door to the kitchen opened the latch and pulled the door open, his gun high.

Instantly the first man in the stack was shot through the head. He fell back into the hearth room, while his teammates returned fire. In seconds all the Syrian GIS men began pouring forward through the doorway, guns blazing, as they assaulted the house.

CHAPTER 47

The baby remained sound asleep as Yasmin followed behind Court through the hallway, past the dead guard in the chair. The American had told the young Syrian woman to keep her face tight into his back and to hold on to his suit coat so he could know where she was at all times, but he had no idea if she was complying with his wishes.

Court was only using the guard’s suit for camo in the dark now; there was no pretense of him actually looking like a member of the security unit here in the house since over his shoulder he wore a blue backpack full of diapers, the bottle, and other baby-related odds and ends, and Yasmin carried the child in her arms and remained tight against Court’s back.

At the bottom of the stairs he stopped and listened carefully. He could hear the sounds of slow and steady breathing from the living room. After fifteen seconds he turned to Yasmin, gave her a nod, and put his hands out to hold the baby. She refused to hand over the child at first, but Court took her by the arm and glared at her. He figured there was less chance Yasmin would alert the guards if she was worried about the kid, so he decided to use Jamal as insurance.

Finally she handed the sleeping baby to Court, who took him awkwardly, then brought him into his chest, hoping like hell he didn’t wake up.

Yasmin walked into the living room silently, then into the kitchen, out of Court’s view. He worried for a few seconds about what she might really be doing, but soon he relaxed when he heard the sound of a refrigerator opening, and then the soft rattle of bottles.

One of the men in the living room spoke, and Court took the baby in his left arm so he could wrap his grip around the pistol at his waist.

Yasmin replied to the man, but it was a quick, relaxed exchange that did not worry Court at all from its tone, although he could not understand the words.

He looked down at Jamal now and put his right hand on the top of the baby’s wispy black curls. So, you’re the little troublemaker, he thought.

Yasmin returned to the stairs an instant later, put four full bottles in the backpack over Court’s shoulder, handed him the car keys, and took the baby back in her arms. She clutched the tail of Court’s suit coat again, and the three of them began walking down the hall.

They passed the man in the alcove; Court had the long knife in his hand clutched close to his chest where Yasmin couldn’t see it, ready to launch himself on the guard if he showed any alarm at all, but the sentry remained soundly asleep.

He did not kill the man, but he knew the man had not exactly been spared. Court figured all the guards in this building would be executed as soon as Azzam found out about the kidnapping.

They entered the spare bedroom where Court had killed the first guard, and he headed over to the keypad in the dark. Yasmin stayed on his heels, just as he’d ordered, but now Court could hear the baby stirring. It was just soft noises, so he was not too concerned yet. He remained concentrated on his exfiltration.

Court leaned close to Yasmin. “I hope you know the alarm code.”

“Of course. They changed it when Bianca disappeared.” She told it to Court. He recognized that disarming the system would, no doubt, alert anyone in the house near a keypad, but there was no other way out.

He reached up to deactivate the alarm, but then he stopped and turned to the bathroom.

He had an idea.

First he gave Yasmin the backpack, and she struggled to put it on and handle the baby at the same time. Jamal lifted his head and looked around a little, and he gave off a soft cry. Court left the two of them at the glass door and went into the bathroom, where he scooped the dead man in the Desert Hawks uniform out of the bathtub and hefted him into a fireman’s carry.

When he returned to the bedroom Yasmin gasped audibly, and Court shushed her. She looked in shock at the man slumped on the stranger’s shoulder.

Court had decided that if he could get out of here with the body undetected it might look, for a short time, anyhow, like this guard had been involved in the kidnapping of Jamal. Anything that would buy him some time as he left the city would increase his chances of success in getting to the Jordanian border.

Court went back to the keypad, struggling to carry the man, but he did stop to whisper at Yasmin. “It’s okay. He’s just asleep.”

It was a lie, but she was stressed, and now the baby was almost fully awake in her hands. He’d do anything he could to keep his two new cohorts from freaking out.

He looked out onto the back patio of the home and searched for the patrolling guard’s flashlight. He didn’t see it, which meant the guard carrying it would be in the front of the property now, or else making his way on one of the walkways on either side, out of Court’s vision. This was good as far as getting out of the building, but since he needed to get the girl, the baby, and the body in the car in the front drive, he hoped like hell the guard would be strolling around back to the west just as they moved around the house to the east.

But he didn’t think for a second he’d get that lucky.

He took a step back from the door and drew his SIG pistol from its holster on his hip. He gave Yasmin the car keys and told her to deactivate the home alarm, and then to be ready to move fast on his heels. When they got to the Range Rover she was to use the keyless entry so Court could dump the body . . . he corrected himself, the sleeping guard, in the back. Then Yasmin was to get in the backseat with the baby, crawl down to the floorboard, and cover herself and the child with the backpack.

He made her repeat everything, and then the baby started to cry.

“What the hell is wrong with it?” Court asked in an angry whisper.

“It? He’s hungry.”

“For God’s sake, not now. We’ve got to go.”

She turned and deactivated the alarm, then opened the sliding glass door, and Court shot out, moving as fast as he possibly could while holding a 170-pound dead man on his back.

Past the patio furniture, a right turn into a small arched passage that led to the northern side of the property, then another right turn towards the front and the driveway there. Court swept his pistol left and right, looking for any threats ahead as they walked along a lighted footpath.

He had no idea where the guard with the flashlight was, but he knew he needed to be certain he saw the man’s light before the man’s light saw him.

They turned around the northeastern corner, and the silver SUV was right there in the drive, just ten yards away. The baby began to squeal just as Yasmin popped the tailgate on the vehicle, and as Court moved around the back to dump the body inside, he saw the flashlight’s beam across the front driveway sweeping towards the noise there.

Court heaved the body off his shoulder and down into the back of the Range Rover, spun towards the light to his left, and fired off four rounds.

The flashlight spun in the air and fell onto a narrow strip of grass between the walkway to the front door and the driveway. Behind it a body lay still on the path.

Court swung his pistol towards the roof now, aimed at the area where the man had been sitting, and saw he did not have a line of sight from this angle. Just as he was about to head for the driver’s-side door of the silver Range Rover, a man stood up with a rifle, almost directly in the sights of Court’s pistol. Court fired a single round, hitting the man high on the top of his head above his left eye and knocking him back and out of view.

Court climbed behind the wheel, fired up the engine, and slammed the SUV in reverse. He spun around to make sure Yasmin was in the back, and she was, but with the shooting and her panic she’d neglected to close the door behind her.

He smashed through the gate at the end of the drive and reversed into the street.