The projection room was already dark when Tucker entered. A single light shone on the screen, displaying a map. Before it, a small crowd of dark shapes clustered around a long boardroom table. It was a smaller group than before. A familiar voice came out of it.

“You’re late,” Jasper said. “Again.”

“So are you.”

“I was in the hospital,” Jasper said, still not moving out of his chair. “Making sure my brain wasn’t bleeding.”

For a second, Tucker thought about saying something witty about his friend’s malfunctioning brain, but then, at the silence of the small crowd, and the stuffy air of seriousness that enveloped them, he took a seat without any dramatic flair or humor. Humor was probably not what they needed right now. They were behind schedule, and the options were getting more desperate by the minute.

He didn’t talk anymore after that, Tucker instead sitting quietly while Jasper went over the rest of the slide presentation. It took only a minute to see that he was right about the desperation. It was palpable in the strained whispers, and the silence in between. The plan now was to ship the uranium through a giant convoy of trucks, all chugging down the highway for six hours to Durban, South Africa’s largest port. For security, they would create a virtual wall of trucks and army transport vehicles on both sides, behind and in front, as a buffer from any unwanted attention—especially the attention of Browning’s government or its affiliated terrorists. The only catch would be that the truck inside would be a decoy. That part was Tucker’s idea, and had no doubt occurred to him based on his borrowed experience with Macy’s successful decoy rooms. He offered it as an example, for perspective. It was hard to believe they’d actually gone for it.

“I understand it’s about smoke and mirrors and misdirection,” one of the dark shapes said with a South-African accent. “But for the actual truck, the actual uranium, what the hell are our defenses?”

“The unknown,” Jasper said. “You just said it yourself. It’s guile, trickery, sleight of hand, that sort of—”

“This isn’t a children’s magic trick, Jasper.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“We’re dealing with nearly 250 tons of enriched uranium.”

“I’m aware of that, too.”

“And so I’ll ask you again, what is the—”

“Hey, Tucker,” Jasper said, cutting the man off. “Do you want to answer this one?”

Finally sick of sitting still and staying quiet, Tucker sprung from his seat and took control of the stage, pacing back and forth to buy him some time to sound at least somewhat knowledgeable. “Gentlemen,” he finally said. “I wasn’t sure if we would go this route; in fact, it’s a recently conceived plan. But it’s the most surefire way.”

“What is the defense?” the South African asked. “Jasper, I’m ready to just consult with our men and go with what we have.”

“And what do you have?” Tucker said. “What’s your idea?”

“Tanks. We’ll have them, with guns trained, on both sides. Not this flimsy decoy business. We’ll make it obvious and with a massive show of force. Straight up the middle. Heavily armed.”

“Then you want a gunfight,” Tucker said.

“We don’t want one, but if we have one—”

“You want a gunfight with enriched uranium in the mix?” Tucker said, ending his pacing so he could stand and stare at the man. “What about not having one at all? I say we go with the decoy, but for the truck actually containing the uranium, we’ll surround it on both sides with armed vans.”

“Vans?”

“Trucks. Armed with EMP cannons.” Tucker waited a minute, watching the man’s head slowly turn to Jasper, cocking to the side in confusion as if he’d just heard a foreign language. Tucker said it again, this time even slower. “EMP. Cannons.”

The guy murmured to Jasper, “Do they even exist?”

“Gentlemen,” Tucker said. “Why do you think we’re here?” Out the corner of his eye, Tucker saw the slide change. Tansy pushed through one on EMP cannons—a weapon that could render any electrical device inoperable. Tucker continued, “Our reputation as the best is well earned.”

“Because of your . . . EMP cannons?”

“Tucker,” Jasper said. “Could you explain to these gentlemen what an EMP cannon is?”

“Well, I’m not the expert on that. I’m sure Tansy can come up and fill us in on the details, but—”

“We know what EMP device is,” said the man. “But are you suggesting that you’ve weaponized it in a way that can be aimed and fired at specific targets? In this case, vehicles traveling on a highway? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“That’s precisely what I’m saying.” Tucker winced as he walked in front of the projector’s light, though he tried keeping his voice flat and measured and utterly professional. “What I’m proposing is that we go ahead with the mass protected decoy, and then a few kilometers behind that, we have the actual shipment in a normal-looking truck. Not followed by any obvious defense vehicles. We can have unmarked trucks armed with these devices.”

“You already have these devices handy?”

“Yes,” Jasper said. “Our team knows how to use them, and can man them if you wish. If any vehicles are looking to pose a threat, we have the means to neutralize them. We can do this all the way to the port.”

“That’s four hundred miles.”

“Four hundred miles of covert protection. And most likely the best kind of protection you’ve ever seen.”

Jasper added, “And it’s the kind of protection that Browning’s men won’t ever see. Unless they try us.” He pressed a remote and the room lights came back on. He stood and waved Tucker back to his seat. “Thanks, Tucker,” he said, rubbing his hands together. And then, facing the crowd: “So, shall we begin?”

There was some grumbling in the crowd, the natives getting restless. And then the sound of confirmation, a solid twenty seconds of silence capped off with the general’s “How soon can we do this?”

Ten minutes later, when Tucker found himself alone in the hallway with Jasper, he had his own question to ask.

“What the hell was that?”

“That’s how we get things done in a hurry,” Jasper said. “Don’t worry, you did well.”

“I did well? It was completely out of my ass.”

“Yeah, and it worked. We’re mobilizing in two hours.” Jasper pressed the open bar for the door and the two of them strolled onto the hot blacktop parking lot in front of the heavily fortified defense building. “Does Macy still want to leave with us?” Jasper asked.

“You think she wants to stick around here?”

“I think she wants to stick around you.”

Tucker tried hard not to let his expression waver. The only way was to pretend he hadn’t heard it.

“That’s a compliment, by the way,” Jasper said.

“Thanks.” Tucker chose not to disagree with Jasper’s assessment. The less said to the rest of the boys on that particular subject, the better.

“You were absolutely right about her,” Jasper said, nodding. “And the way she caught up to speed. She’s already running a quarter of the operation herself.”

“That’s nothing,” Tucker said. “Just wait until you see her in action.”

“I already did.”

“You were half unconscious,” Tucker said, laughing. And then he thought about Macy in action for him, a different kind of action. He couldn’t wait for that, either. He suddenly felt a little warm in the parking lot. Sweaty, and almost weak. It was midday hot, and Tucker was more than midday tired. And a little stressed. With blue balls. He felt almost hungover, so much so that when Jasper turned to him, probably seeing his dark eye sockets in the full sun, he asked him, very quietly and seriously, if he was okay.

“I’m good,” Tucker said.

“Maybe you should be next for a hospital visit.”

“Or a raise.”

Jasper laughed. “I agree with you on that one. You’ll have to take that up with Jackson, though.” He stopped by his car. “I bet he won’t be happy with how many rental cars we’ve blown through already.”

“Should I drive?” Tucker asked.

“What? Why”

“Your head.”

Jasper shrugged, but held on to the keys. “About Macy, though. We still have to talk about that thing.”

“What thing?”

“The background check,” Jasper said. “I told Jackson about her, but he still wants some intel. And he wants you to get it for him.”

Tucker didn’t know how to respond to that.

“He said something about . . . wanting to test her.”

Tucker slipped into the passenger seat without a word. Before he had a chance to think, or even to buckle his seat belt, the car lurched back out of the parking space and then forward with a screech of a tire. It was typical Jasper, who was obviously fully recovered and his driving as insane as ever.

As they raced toward the highway, Jasper turned to him and said, “So, can you handle this?”

“I’m just confused why you think it’s necessary,” Tucker said. “She’s proven her loyalty.”

“You know, with the latest attacks on us, and Browning’s team seeming to know every move we make, Jackson might have a reason to be suspicious.”

Tucker couldn’t believe that they were trying to pin everything on her. It enraged him.

“It’s just a precaution,” Jasper said. “She won’t know a thing.”