He watched as the cars stopped, and six men got out-three ex-Fedayeen, two army Special Forces…and al-Faisal. The military men moved with precision, fully alert, machine pistols at the ready, shock sticks on their belts. Al-Faisal could have been at a picnic, unarmed, dressed casually in loose-fitting pants and a dark-checked shirt. He strolled around the outskirts of the villa, hands in his pockets, picking up pieces of broken tile and bits of burnt wood as though they were treasures. He looked like a man with nothing to fear.

Rakkim retreated deeper into the villa as the men separated-two of them fanned out around the north and south sides of the villa, while three of them accompanied al-Faisal in the direction of Redbeard’s office. The Fedayeen leading the way had a handheld locator keyed to the tracking button.

“I’m not scared,” said Leo.

Sarah pressed her finger against her lips. Michael did the same.

“Rakkim and I…we’ve been through worse,” said Leo.

Sarah watched the waterfall cascade a few inches in front of them, the garden dark and diffuse through the rushing water.

Rakkim decided to kill the tall, blond Fedayeen first. He was part of the strike team working the perimeter, spread out by necessity. Their intention was to form a loose cordon around the site, preventing escape, while the other four worked on the current location of the tracking button. A reasonable plan…but it left the perimeter guards vulnerable to someone who knew every inch of the villa. Besides, al-Faisal’s men were combat warriors, fine enough for overpowering an objective, but marginally effective when stealth was demanded.

Rakkim scooted ahead of the blond Fedayeen, not making a sound as he scrambled over the loose rubble. He flattened himself against an interior wall, listening as the blond Fedayeen approached. He heard the man stop. Operational training called for a sneak-and-peek around such a corner, a quick glance in and out. Rakkim timed it perfectly, stabbed him in the eye as he jerked his head in for a look. He lowered the blond Fedayeen to the ground. Went after the next one on the other side of the villa, taking a shortcut through the old laundry room. As he slipped through the house, he could hear them in Redbeard’s office, banging around.

The Special Forces man with the shaved head was more cautious-Rakkim could see that just by the way he moved, the care he took before every step, testing the ground before putting his weight on it. Rakkim circled in front of him, lay flat under a pile of wallboard as the man walked by, close enough that Rakkim could see his own reflection in the man’s polished boots. He waited until the man passed, then eased out from under the trash and cut the man’s throat as he had one foot still poised in the air.

Rakkim took the machine pistol from the dead man. Checked it out. Guns were loud and sloppy things, but when you needed to kill a lot of people fast, and from a distance, they were just what was needed. He approached Redbeard’s office. Heard someone saying, “Goddamnit, come out of there or somebody’s going to get hurt.” Rakkim stayed low, found a collapsed section of wall he had noted earlier. A glimpse was all he needed to pinpoint the positions of the four men. A full-auto spray and Sarah and he could grab Michael and Leo and get out of here. He held up his knife, checked the reflection in the blade. He saw one man in the office, just inches away, only one, the Special Forces operator talking to himself, nervous, his own weapon pivoting from side to side.

Rakkim killed him, then ran toward the water garden, ran as fast as he could.

Sarah heard them coming before she saw them through the waterfall. They kept their voices low, and the water was loud, but she heard them anyway, tramping through the flowers, crunching through the bushes. They walked past the waterfall once. Then twice. The third time they stopped.

This time they lowered their voices until she could barely hear them as they conferred. Three of them…one clearly in charge.

Michael squirmed but didn’t make a sound.

Leo looked as if he wasn’t able to take a breath, his chest heaving.

Sarah pushed Michael to safety on the far side of the shelf and picked up a rock.

A man peeked through the middle of the waterfall, water streaming down his face. He blinked for a moment before he saw her.

She bashed him as hard as she could with the rock. He fell facedown and she hit him again. And again. Somebody dragged him away by the feet.

Another man lurched into their hiding spot, cursing. She didn’t see the knife until it was too late. Leo surprised her. It wasn’t just that she couldn’t imagine him throwing himself in front of the blade, it was that she couldn’t believe he could move that fast.

“Ouch.” Leo stared at the knife sticking out of his stomach. His mouth worked. He touched the handle, jerked back. Blood seeped down the front of him. He looked over at her as though expecting her to chastise him.

The man who’d stabbed Leo was jerked backward by a thin, cream-colored cord that snapped around his neck and jerked him off his feet.

“I told you, I wanted them taken alive.” A man peered in from the side of the waterfall. “Look what you’ve done. You cut the boy.”

Sarah heard gagging from outside, someone trying to breathe.

A hand slipped through the waterfall. “Come on out. All of you.” The fingers beckoned. “We’ll get Leo some medical attention, but you’re going to have to come out. Please.” His tone was friendly, but a sharp edge was just under the surface, like broken glass on the beach. “I’m Tariq al-Faisal, Sarah. I’d hate for anything to happen to you and the baby. I honestly wouldn’t want that on my conscience.”

Leo looked at her, one hand on his stomach. He shook his head no.

As Sarah hefted the rock, a cord whipped through the waterfall, wrapped around her throat, and jerked her into the base of the waterfall. She came up coughing, trying to pull the cord from around her throat. The man she had hit with the rock lay facedown in the shallow stream, a scum of blood eddying round and round.

“Haskins, you get Leo out there, and slap a pressure bandage on him,” al-Faisal ordered the man who had stabbed Leo. “If he dies, I’m going to hang you by your balls until they explode.”

Sarah clawed at her throat as the man went under the waterfall, but the knotted cord seemed made of some unique material…a four-foot whip when al-Faisal wanted it, but a garrote that adhered to itself when he twisted it.

Al-Faisal watched her, an arrogant man in his thirties with a long face and small, dark eyes. “What, Sarah?” He tugged gently at the cord. “I can’t hear you.”

Sarah fell to her knees, the edges of her vision going dark.

“Nice dirty doggy,” said al-Faisal, continuing to tug at her. “Heel. That’s what the Catholics say, isn’t it?”

Sarah heard Michael crying, but she couldn’t seem to move. She was dimly aware of Leo on the ground, the other man hovering over him.

“Carlson?” Al-Faisal spoke into his wrist. “Any sign of him?”

“Yeah, he’s in the water garden,” said Rakkim.

Al-Faisal turned, saw Rakkim beside a nearby copse of bamboo trees, the machine pistol leveled at him.

“Let her go,” said Rakkim.

“Guns are for cowards.” Al-Faisal jerked the corded leash, sent Sarah sprawling. “Put it down or I’ll snap her neck.”

“You’ll be dead,” said Rakkim.

“We all die, Rakkim. Some of us go to Paradise.”

Sarah clawed at the stones, breathing through a pinhole.

“Haskins, you keep working on Leo. Rakkim and I can handle this between ourselves.”

Rakkim tossed the gun aside. His knife was already in his hand.