“Hold your position. Green, come inside. Go to the fourth floor. See what’s happening.”

“On my way.”

“Blue. The man who asked for me—bring him here,” said the Black Wolf. “There’s something familiar about the name.”

The door to the storeroom opened abruptly.

“Who’s Zen?” said the man who’d been watching them.

“I am.”

“You in the wheelchair?”

“That’s me.”

“Come out.”

“I need some help.”

The girl moved forward quickly to push his chair, just as they had planned. The guard reached in and shoved her back.

I can grab his gun, thought Zen. But by then it was too late—the man had stepped back, out of reach.

“None of you move, or you all die,” said the man roughly. “Wheel yourself.”

Zen put his hands on the wheels and pushed out slowly, as if he were trying to heave himself up a steep hill.

“I could really use some help,” he started to say.

Before he could finish the sentence, the man put his foot in the back of the chair and shoved it with tremendous force. The wheels flew from Zen’s hands, and the chair rode straight across the kitchen, crashing into one of the counters. It rebounded backward, rolling nearly all the way to the man.

“Move yourself,” growled the man.

Stunned, Zen put his hands back on the wheels, starting slowly. He wasn’t acting now; the ride and crash had dazed him.

The man was big, but even so, his strength seemed disproportionate.

“Go,” he snarled. “On your own.”

Zen wheeled forward, trying to think of a Plan B.

“We need security in the building right away,” Breanna told Danny. “I think they have Zen.”

“I’m zero-five from the airport. I’ll have the Czech people over there ASAP,” Danny told her. “What room are you in?”

“Four B. We’re in the northeast corner.”

“All right.”

Breanna turned off the phone. Minister Gustov and the general had skeptical looks on their faces.

“I’m not some crazy female,” she told them. “I’m not having a panic attack. You know who I am. You know what I’ve been through.”

“That’s the only reason we’re still here,” said the general.

“I don’t know,” said Gustov. He looked as if he was going to leave.

“Listen…” Breanna glanced at Caroline and Teri. She didn’t want them to hear, but there was nowhere for them to go. “The CIA has been tracking a group hired to disrupt the NATO meeting.”

“That’s in Kiev in two days,” replied the general.

“Yes, but if they assassinated you here, that might achieve the same goal. The Russians would do that, don’t you think?”

“The Russians are capable of anything,” said Minister Gustov.

“Then wait for a few minutes more.”

There was a knock on the door.

“Don’t answer it,” said Breanna.

Danny Freah leaned forward in the car as the taxi pulled up to the Old State Castle gate.

“Who’s your commander?” he shouted.

The guard stared at him. Danny dropped fifty euros—about three times the fare—on the front seat of the cab and climbed out.

“Shut the gates,” he told the guard. “There’s an emergency in the hotel area. I need two men to come with me.”

“What? Who are you?” sputtered the man.

“Danny Freah. I’m with the American senator’s security team. We think he’s being held hostage.”

The phone inside the guardroom rang. It was the guard’s commander, ordering him to shut down all access to the facility. Help was on the way.

“There are two men near the museum,” said the guard, pointing. “I’ll call and they’ll meet you.”

Zen wheeled slowly toward the room divider, calculating that the longer he took, the more time the others would have to come up with a backup plan.

He was hoping one would occur to him as well, but ideas weren’t exactly popping into his head. He felt a little like he had the first time he rose to give a speech in the Senate—not just tongue-tied, but completely brain frozen.

“Who are you?” said a voice in English from behind the thick barrier.

Zen didn’t answer—he couldn’t. He concentrated on wheeling forward, around the barrier.

The Black Wolf stood with his arms folded across his chest. He held an MP–5 machine gun in his left hand, curled under his arm.

Was this Stoner? Zen looked at his face. It had been so long since he’d seen him.

“Who are you?” asked the man again.

“Zen Stockard.” The words came out haltingly. “Jeff.”

“I don’t know you.”

Zen’s brain unfroze. There was something in the snap of the answer—the sharp finality and sureness of tone—that told Zen it was Stoner.

“Mark. Do you remember? In the Pacific? You were with Bree. Remember the beer we had in the hospital? I smuggled them inside in my wheelchair?”

The man’s face didn’t change. But that only convinced Zen all the more.

Stoner had always seemed older to him, even though they were roughly the same age. Now he was much younger. He seemed almost not to have aged—his cheeks had hollowed, but his brow was smooth and his eyes unwrinkled. His hair was dappled gray, but it was full and thick.

“What happened?” Zen asked. He wheeled forward a foot and a half. “What happened after the helicopter crashed?”

“Quiet,” commanded the man, touching his earpiece to hear a radio transmission.

“This is security,” said the man outside the door to Teri and Caroline’s room. His English was heavily accented. “We have an important matter to discuss.”

“What matter is that?” Breanna demanded.

“There are reports of men with guns in the hotel,” said the man.

“We haven’t seen them.”

“I have been sent to protect you,” said the man.

“We’re fine.”

Major Krufts was desperately searching the room for something to use as a weapon. Breanna pointed to the lamp near the bed. But it was clamped to the side table.

The defense secretary and general were standing next to her. Caroline had taken Teri into the bathroom and closed the door.

“My orders are to protect you,” said the man.

“Great.” Breanna saw that the latch to the door had not been closed. She moved toward it quickly. “Stand guard in the hall.”

“I must see you to make sure you are not being held against your will,” said the man.

“Take my word for it,” said Breanna.

“I’m sorry. I cannot do that.”

Breanna reached the latch and pushed it closed. As she did, she heard a key entering the lock. She grabbed at the interior turning bolt, but couldn’t hold it back. The door opened, then caught abruptly at the latch.

Breanna threw her shoulder against the door, pushing it back to the frame. The latch caught. She pushed the lever closed, relocking it.

It was a momentary respite. The handle exploded, shot through from the other side. She spun back and to the side as the door flew open.

Danny heard the gunshot as he entered the building.

“The stairs!” he yelled. “Where are they?”

Even as the words left his mouth, he saw a door near the elevator at the far side of the hall. He raced to it, heart pounding.

“We are with you!” yelled one of the security men as he pushed into the stairwell. “Lead the way!”

Major Krufts jumped at the man as he came in. Krufts hit his arm and side, trying to grab the man in a bear hug. The intruder pushed him off as if he were no more than a fly, swatting him back with a sharp flick of his arm.

Krufts flew a good ten feet through the air, crashing into the wall near the bed.

The man turned and started to raise his gun. Breanna charged at him, her arm lassoing his neck. He remained upright, though her blow threw his aim off; three or four bullets crashed into the dresser and wall near the door.

Desperate, Breanna began kicking and clawing, trying to hit the man’s groin. He pushed his right arm up next to his chest and pried her off his body, flipping her down. As he did, General Josef hit him over the head with the heavy desk chair, which he’d managed to lift in front of him.