Pandora's grave

“Dear God,” the general whispered. A military platoon against his four men. There might be a chance, but it was a slim one. “Any sign of the FAVs?”

“Nothing. However it looks like a helicopter crashed in a nearby canyon, sir,” the watch officer stated after a moment.

“A helicopter?” Shoham demanded in astonishment. “Where did that come from?”

“I have no idea, sir. There’s not enough left of it to establish make. Request permission to contact RAHAB.”

A long pause. “Permission granted. Find out what’s going on. And make it short.”

“Aye, sir.”

2:40 A.M. Tehran Time

The crash site

“Roger, FULLBACK. You stay and provide cover for BIRDMASTER. Tell SWITCHBLADE to join me. We will regroup on your position.”

“Copy that, sir.”

Major Hossein reached up and grasped the man beside him by the shoulder. “The Americans are moving. They will be spread out. We need to strike before they can regroup.”

The soldier nodded. Hossein flicked the safety off the Kalishnikov assault rifle he carried. “Here’s what I want you to do.”

“Harry wants you to join him,” Hamid stated calmly as Davood came up beside him. The young Iranian looked strange in the green glow of his night vision. “Immediately.”

Davood looked back toward the cave where he had placed Tancretti, its mouth hidden in the shadows of night.

“How is he?” Hamid asked.

“Not good. He needs an IV, but,” Davood gestured helplessly toward the wreckage of the Huey, “we don’t have any med supplies left.” His shoulders slumped in discouragement.

“Let Allah be your strength, my brother. Look to Him and place your faith in His power.” Hamid clapped his fellow agent on the back. “May He go with you. I will look after BIRDMASTER.”

Davood nodded, unholstering the Beretta from his hip as he moved toward the cliff path. Hamid watched him go…

5:43 P.M. Eastern Time

NCS Operations Center

Langley, Virginia

“Change of course, Carol,” Ron Carter announced, coming around the edge of the cubicles with a sheaf of printouts in his hand. “I need you in the Tehran intranet, and I need you in there yesterday.”

Carol Chambers looked up from her workstation, frowning at the head analyst. “Do you know the kind of time that will take?”

“Of course I do,” Carter shot back, cheerfully sweeping a space clear on her desk to deposit the printouts. “That’s why you’ve got two hours instead of one.”

Carol stared after him in disbelief as he disappeared. Two hours. Yeah, right.

She turned back her terminal, reminding herself for the hundredth time that she should have joined the NSA. The world’s biggest signals intelligence gatherer would have had the manpower to pull off what Carter wanted. Not just the manpower, but the processing power, which was more important. The computers that the Clandestine Service had control over, the only ones she was permitted to access for TALON, just didn’t measure up to the huge Crays.

Which once again begged the question. Why had she joined the CIA?

Carol sighed and reached back, sweeping her hair into a tight ponytail. Time to get to work.

Shoulder-length when worn down, her hair was a golden brown, dirty blond, as it was often called.

A smile crept across her face. Dirty, maybe, but not dumb. She hadn’t graduated from MIT at the top of her class, but she’d been a long way from the bottom. Yeah, forget the CIA and NSA, with her grades and other skills, she could have made a fortune in the private sector. After all, the government wasn’t the only entity that utilized hackers and espionage.

The familiar pulsing hum of the door scanner reached her ears and Carol looked up to see the figure of her father step onto the floor of the operations center.

His presence in the nerve center of the Clandestine Service was rare enough to be the rough equivalent of a divine visitation, and to have it happen twice in one night…

It had always been that way, ever since she’d been a little girl. Memories of those early days were few and distant, hazy shadows, a mirage to chase in one’s dreams. Nothing tangible. She only remembered the absence, the lack. A godlike father figure, distant, unapproachable. Someone whose very existence had to be accepted on faith. In many ways, God was the more approachable of the two.

Yet, deep down, she knew that he was the reason she was here and not a corporate firm. God had given her the strength to forgive the past and despite the awkwardness of their current relationship, she couldn’t have lived without it.

A voice interrupted her thoughts and she looked up to see their object standing before her.

“Good evening, Carol,” David Lay greeted softly, uncertainty in his tones. She looked into his eyes and saw the pain there. Whether grief for the unrecoverable past or the men he had lost this night, she had no way of knowing.

“I need you and Carter in Conference Room #2. Five minutes.”

And then he was gone as quick as he had arrived. As it always had been…

2:45 A.M. Tehran Time