‘Nothing’s changed,’ replies Zeb. ‘I’ll continue to paint target circles on myself.’

‘Are you going back to Williamstown in the next few days?’ asks Broker.

‘Nope. I’m thinking of joining the Balthazars on their mountain trip. I wasn’t planning to go, but if Isakson feeds me to the press, then it might be better to disappear for a short while.’

‘What if Holt comes after you there?’

‘I did think of that, and that’s the reason I wasn’t willing initially. However, if Isakson has a change of heart, then Cassandra and the Balthazars will inevitably get sucked into the media scrum, whatever happens. If Holt comes at me in the mountains, I’ll deal with it. I’ll be ready. I’ll warn Connor, however, and leave the final decision to him.’

‘Good thinking. I’ll come back to you if I hear anything about Isakson’s angelic act.’

Its late night when Zeb goes to the tabla school, but it’s still open, and he can hear the sounds of the drums. When he pushes open the doors, he sees that the hall is empty but for his teacher. His teacher smiles widely on seeing Zeb and beckons him silently. He eyes Zeb silently as he approaches.

‘This is a place to heal. Not to wage war.’

‘I have known only war all my life.’

His teacher smiles. ‘The tabla does not bond with those that only destroy.’

Zeb is silent. His teacher looks at him silently and then launches into the Ardha Taal Chakra. A half-beat tabla taal that starts with the smallest rhythm circle, growing one beat at a time, pulling Zeb into its ripples.

It’s early morning when Zeb returns to yet another transient hotel. Broker has left him a message.

‘I have news for you.’

Chapter 12

‘The Director’s still batting for you. Isakson was going to make a press statement releasing the details of Mendes’s killing when she got wind of it. She called the FBI’s Director and said that a certain Special Agent in Charge had better like cleaning toilet bowls in Idaho, because that would be the only job he’d get once she was through with him. She also said the same SAC could be booked under the Patriot Act for risking sensitive operational details. I guess she meant the media digging into your past.

‘Of course, that made Isakson even madder,’ continues Broker, on getting the predictable silence from Zeb.

‘But nothing has changed much as far as the FBI is concerned. Holt is still their best buddy–’

Zeb interrupts him before he can continue his rant. ‘I’m thinking of writing a letter to his mother describing him as a rapist. I’m sure she and he check their mail.’

Broker chuckles. ‘If you do the latter, it will make him mad as a hornet, and then if you disappear into the mountains untraceable, it will make him madder. Maybe that’s what you should do.

‘You know, I could just hack into the FBI’s systems, find out where he’s put up, and you could go and get him. So simple, instead of this elaborate version of being the sacrificial lamb. Not that you’re very lamblike.’ Broker snorts.

‘No. I want him to come out of his comfort zone and come after me.’

‘Have it your way, Mr. Stubborn. When are you off to the mountains?’

‘I’ll speak to Connor today. They’re leaving in a couple of days, and I’ll join them if he’s still okay with my going along.’

‘I have an idea. How far away would you stay from your mother if you were very close to her?’

‘I wasn’t close to my mother. I don’t even know who she was. Cassandra and I were orphaned just after birth.’

It’s Broker’s turn to be silent. This is news to even him.

‘But to answer your question, if I were close to my mother, I wouldn’t live much more than an hour away from her – hour and a half at most.’

‘Yes, that’s what I also thought,’ says Broker briskly. ‘And on that basis, I’m searching for houses in Williamstown which have been rented or sold in the last six months that are about two hours away from Holt’s mother. Assuming that she does stay in her home.’

Zeb’s impressed. ‘Great thinking. Hanging out with me is paying off.’

Broker snorts. ‘Hanging out with me is sure as hell giving you a sense of humor. Who would have thought?’

Zeb calls Connor and tells him about the baggage surrounding him without going into the specifics.

‘I know Rory wants you to come. I’ll talk to Lauren and Anne and let you know, but I think it’ll be fine,’ Connor answers sanguinely.

Zeb frowns at his phone. ‘I’m not sure you realize the kind of danger you’re putting yourself in. This isn’t like anything you’ve ever experienced. Think of the worst peril you folks have been in, times it a million and it still won’t be close.’

There’s a long silence at the other end.

‘You there?’ Zeb asks.

Connor chuckles. ‘Yeah. I’m recovering. I didn’t know you had so many words in you. And about the danger, peril, all that stuff – I still want you to come. However, I will talk to Lauren and get back to you.’

Zeb tells Cassandra everything. She makes no comment and leaves it to Connor to make the final call. She had already pieced together most of the story from Clare’s comments to her.

Zeb has wanted to get kitted out for some time, and now is as good a time as ever. He has been getting his kit from a supplier that the agency uses and has been vetted by Broker. This time he decides to go to Bunk Talbot for a change.

Talbot’s gun shop is surrounded by the usual badasses hanging around, giving the stare to anyone who steps into their territory.

Zeb’s bemused when he sees them. There must be a book on eBay, ’Tude for Badasses the way all of them give off the same vibe, he thinks. Most of them will not live out a year, but hey, attitude is king.

‘You again. I was wondering when you’d show up. I got nothing for you – same as before,’ grunts Talbot on spotting Zeb.

‘Sniper rifles, handguns and knives are what I’m after,’ replies Zeb.

‘Doing business with me now so that I pass some info? That dog won’t hunt, pal.’

‘I’m here to buy. If you won’t sell, then I’m wasting my time.’

Talbot stares at Zeb and wordlessly puts out a hand.

Zeb slaps his shopping list in his palm. Talbot looks at it for a moment and goes to the back of his shop. He returns with a clanking duffel bag and drops it in front of Zeb.

Zeb is looking out of the window at the men on the street. ‘Clones,’ he mutters.

‘That they are. They wouldn’t last a day in ’Stan or Iraq.’

‘Any of them tried holding you up?’

‘Tried. I’m still here. They aren’t,’ replies Talbot impassively.

Zeb opens the duffel and inspects the weapons. An AWM sniper rifle, a couple of sniper scopes, a few Predator knives, and three Sig Sauer handguns. Ammunition neatly boxed up. Talbot may be servicing the wrong people, but he has the right goods. Something makes Zeb look up.

There is a fourth Sig. Talbot is pointing it squarely at Zeb.

Zeb can sense two people entering the store and blocking the exit.

‘Last time you asked me to tell Holt that you’re hunting him. You came to me just because I trained with him. I sell guns. Weapons. I don’t care who I sell to. However, I do not knowingly sell to people who wage war on women and children. And I didn’t sell to Holt. Never did. And I didn’t tell him about your visit. Never brokered information,’ Talbot spits, letting Zeb know that he knows about Broker.

He puts down the gun and slides it butt-first to Zeb. The tension escapes the room like air from a pricked balloon.

Zeb removes his hands from inside the duffel bag. His right holding a fully loaded Sig aimed at Talbot through the bag. He places it alongside Talbot’s gun, looking straight at him.

Talbot cracks the slightest smile, realizing that he would have been dead if he had pulled the trigger. He sees now why his Seal buddies told him not to rub Zeb the wrong way.