Crossing through the woods, Logan made his way toward the house on the hill. Only two cars remained in the driveway and he recognized both of them—Akram’s and Malik’s. He eyed a tree near the back corner and slipped closer. With a quick assessment, he climbed the tree to the second level. Peeking into a window, he saw an empty room.

Using a glass cutter, he quickly cut a circle out of the window directly above the old flip lock. Reaching, he unlatched the window and, with practiced ease, opened it and slid through silently.

Stealthily moving around the edge of the walls where the floor would be more supported and less likely to creak, he peered out the door into an empty hall. Scanning the other open doors, it appeared the entire upstairs was devoid of people as well as furniture. An abandoned house outside town made the perfect hideout.

He heard voices below, raised in argument, recognizing Akram and Malik.

“It makes no sense for you to send them!” Malik yelled. “Farrah is a weak link. You know that.”

“She might be, but Nafisa certainly is not. She will keep an eye on Farrah and make sure she does what she is supposed to do. Once it is done, then Farrah will have no choice but to keep doing as she’s told. She’ll be afraid of being caught and that will keep her in line.”

“Nafisa shouldn’t have to worry about Farrah on top of what she is doing—”

“Why do you think I sent Rashad with them? Your feelings for Nafisa are too close to the surface. You would fail where Rashad will succeed. Nothing will deter him from his great jihad.”

At the top of the stairs, listening carefully, he remembered Vivian telling him that Malik had feelings for Nafisa, but that Nafisa had feelings for Rashad, who appeared to not reciprocate those emotions. Silently thanking Vivian for that tidbit of information, he hesitated before slipping downstairs, wanting to hear where the women had gone.

Akram’s voice came from the right of the stairs and, from what he could ascertain, it was where the dining room would be. He heard keyboard clicking, probably Akram on his computer, as well as the pacing of Malik.

Wanting them to be in the same room, he waited patiently until he heard Malik’s footsteps move close to where he Akram and the computer were.

Slipping down the stairs, his weapon drawn, he rounded the corner, catching the two men unaware. Their eyes widened, first at him and then at his weapon. Malik stood perfectly still, his hands raised by his side, his mouth open in surprise.

But Akram’s lips slowly curved upward as he stood, one hand slightly behind his back. “Well, well. Mr. Preacher,” he chuckled, “I should have known that name was false. I congratulate you on your charade.”

“Hands where I can see them.”

Akram slowly raised his hands, a gun held loosely in one of them. He caught the way his smile dipped slightly.

“Drop the weapon,” he ordered, as Malik began to babble.

“What are you going to do? Arrest us? You can’t do this. You can’t stop us. It’s already started—”

“Our neighbor has no intention of arresting us, do you?” Akram asked, his dark eyes holding Logan’s. “He has to get through us to get to the women.”

Malik looked between the two men, understanding dawning on him. “Nafisa!” he cried as he whirled, darting for the front door.

As he shifted his body, firing his weapon, he heard two shots. Malik dropped onto the floor, a pool of blood spreading out from underneath him.

Akram had no chance against a SEAL, the shot he fired going into the wall next to him as he ducked around a corner, firing another shot toward Akram. The bullet hit the man in the arm, sending his gun flying down the hall. Standing, he stalked over, his body leaning over the bleeding man, surprised the smile was still on his face.

“You cannot stop us. You take down one and a hundred more will rise to take our place.”

“Your particular jihad stops here,” he growled.

Grinning, Akram reached his hand to press against his bleeding arm when he suddenly slammed it against his chest instead.

A beeping began and Logan yelled, “Fuck!” knowing the sound of a timer on a bomb. Whirling around, he snatched the laptop off the table and sprinted toward the door to the screams of Akram.

“Noooo!” Akram wailed.

Racing through the front yard, the ground shook as the explosion behind him rocked the land. Throwing himself facedown onto the grass, Logan covered his head as pieces of wood came flying past him. Turning back to observe the blazing inferno, he pushed himself up and ran into the woods by the side of the driveway. Having parked down the street, he raced to his truck, throwing open the door. Once started he gunned it, churning up the gravel, putting distance between him and the destroyed house, assuming the Tanana fire station would respond, just like they had in Ester.

Two miles down the road, he pulled into a parking lot at the edge of town. Grabbing the laptop, he quickly scanned the last messages Akram sent, desperate to find where Farrah, Nafisa, and Rashad were.

* * *

Arriving at the Tanana Inn once again, Vivian retraced her earlier steps and headed back to the reception desk. The same man looked at her, his head tilted in question.

Attempting, and failing, a smile, she shrugged. “I thought I saw some friends, but…uh…”

“Oh,” he nodded. “Didn’t find who you were looking for?”

“No…no, I didn’t. He…uh, they weren’t who I thought they were… at all.” Looking around the lobby, she said, “I know you’ve got the um…show tour…thing going on. Do you have a room for the night?”

“Looks like you’re in luck, but it’s not my best room. We’re almost full up, but we’ve got one of the original cabin rooms toward the back that’s rarely used.”

She scrunched her nose in distaste, saying, “What kind of shape is it in?”

He threw his hands up in defense and quickly explained. “Oh, no, ma’am. It’s a perfectly fine room. It’s just behind the Inn. There were two of the original cabins left when they tore the others down to build this building. They were the ones closest to the woods. One is for overflow guests and the other is used as the housekeepers’ storage room and hotel laundry.”

She cocked her head to the side, searching her memory. “I used to spend my summers here with my grandparents when I was little. I remember this inn…it was tiny, individual cabins.”

A smile spread across his face as he nodded. “Yeah, I always loved those cabins. They were torn down when new owners decided to make this into a hotel, to get more rooms and more money. We usually rent it last, since a lot of customers don’t like the distance or the laundry noise, but other than that, it’s a perfectly good room. And anyway, the housekeepers are gone for the day and the laundry’s all done. So, you should be good for the night.”

“It’ll be fine,” she replied, with a shrug. “I’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning anyway.”

Leaning forward, he smiled and said, “I’ll give you a discount since you’re being so nice about it.”

Smiling her thanks, she handed him her credit card.

A few minutes later, she walked down the hall, past his desk, leading to a door that opened to a path toward the cabin. The mulched path led her to the door of a tiny, log cabin, it’s front facing the back of the hotel. To the side, back farther in the woods, was an identical cabin with an engraved, wooden sign over the door indicating the laundry.

Her room key was just that—an old-fashioned key on a key ring with a white plastic tag, her cabin number engraved on it. Entering, she flipped the light switch and breathed a sigh of relief—the room was old, but perfectly clean. The window facing the direction of the laundry had been boarded over, an attempt to keep out the noise and possible prying eyes of the housekeepers. Shutting the door behind her, she dropped her overnight bag on the floor.

Walking over to the only other window, she pulled back the curtain and stared out over the back of the hotel and parking lot in the distance. Not worrying about the view, she turned and moved to the bed, jerking the covers down. Seeing the clean sheets, she flopped onto the bed, her body finally giving in to the exhaustion of the day.

Thoughts of Logan and the mission filled her mind. Angry with herself that she agreed to the job without finding out the entire facts first, she had to admit that her supervisor probably did not know the extent of the security specialist’s job description.

Rolling to her side, she thought of Logan’s deception, but knew he was right when he said that he never mentioned arresting anyone. That was her expectation. So, he didn’t lie…he just let me keep my false assumption.

The faces of their neighbors and visitors drifted through her mind. She knew they were terrorists…she knew they were working on biological warfare…and they had to be stopped. It’s so much easier being just a civilian who wants terrorism to stop and yet we sit in our safe houses and never know what others endure to make that happen. She thought of Logan’s SEAL team and even his injury. He has the guts to do what it takes to make us safe. How can I sit in judgment of that?