Then there was the click again. Only it was louder inside the hidden room.
The door popped open an inch and light seeped in.
The sudden change caused Iris to move, her head rocking against Marion’s chest.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Marion whispered, trying to coax the child back to sleep.
Marion could see the tips of several fingers grabbing the edge of the door. Iris twisted again, this time lifting her head up, her eyes opening at the same moment the door did.
Marion held the child tightly with one arm while the other was occupied with the Taser, ready to ram it into the first piece of skin she saw.
Outside, blocking the light, was a dark form. Large, like one of the soldiers. Without even realizing it, she pushed down with her thumb, activating the weapon in her hand. Only nothing happened. There was no arc of electricity, or even a vibration that would tell her the device was on.
“I would appreciate you moving that away,” a voice said. It came from the shadow. The voice was male, speaking French like the soldiers. Only it was different. The accent was Germanic.
As he stepped backward, the weak light of the office revealed that he wasn’t one of the soldiers from before.
It was Jan, Frau Roslyn’s cousin.
“I don’t think that works anymore, anyway,” he said.
He held out his hand. After a moment, she gave him the stunner.
As he set it on the desk, he said, “It’s safe now. You can come out.”
“They’re gone?” she asked.
He nodded. “Fifteen minutes ago.”
He helped her to step out of the space in the wall, then he closed the door behind her.
“Where is Frau Roslyn?” Marion asked.
The look on Jan’s face darkened. “They kept her out front for over an hour talking. Then they took her away.”
“What? What do you mean ‘away’?”
Jan hesitated. “I’m going to go look for her as soon as I can find someone to watch the children.”
“I’ll stay.”
“No,” he said. “You have to get out of here. You have to take Iris with you.”
They both looked at the child. She was awake now, but she hadn’t made a sound. She was looking at Marion, smiling.
“Where do I take her?”
“Someplace safe,” Jan said. “The UN compound. They won’t bother you there. But—”
“I can’t just take her to the compound.”
Jan stared at her for several seconds. “Then leave her here. I’ll give her to the soldiers when they come back.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Of course,” she said. “Of course, I’ll take her. I’m sorry.” She paused for a moment, the beginnings of a sob caught in her chest. “I’m just… scared.”
The look on Jan’s face was tense. There was no smile, no friendly sparkle in his eyes like Marion had seen on previous visits. “You should be.” He leaned down until only a foot separated his face from her. “Listen to me. They’ll keep looking for her. You need to get her away. Far away. Once you do, you need to disappear. Don’t let anyone know where you are. These people will find you. And once they have the girl, they’ll kill you.”
“If I can get her out of the city, they’ll have to give up. They’re just local soldiers.”
“Forget about the soldiers,” Jan said. “It’s not the soldiers you need to worry about. It’s the people the soldiers are working for. Those are the people you need to be concerned with. They’re not local. They’re not even from Africa.”
She didn’t understand what he meant, but it was obvious he had no intention of explaining more. Without saying another word, he guided her through the orphanage to the back door she had snuck through less than two hours before.
“Go,” he said, all but pushing her through the door. “Iris’s life depends on you.”
The door closed before she could respond.
She looked down at the child. Iris’s eyelids were heavy.
“That’s right,” Marion said. “Sleep. Just sleep. I’ll take care of you.”
Once the girl’s eyes closed, Marion began retracing the steps that had brought her to the orphanage, not knowing how she was going to keep the promise she had just made.
CHAPTER 3
Quinn used the same path he had earlier in the day when he’d returned from his last check of the church. Only this time it was dark, and if that wasn’t hindrance enough, it seemed as if all the bushes that lined the trail had grown significantly larger in the several hours that had passed. He had to take extra care not to sound like a herd of roaming sheep.
In his right hand was his SIG, and in his left, the small wireless microphone that paired with the receiver hanging on his ear. Keeping his eyes on the path, he reached up and attached the mic to his collar.
“Give me a constant update,” he whispered. “I’m not going to be able to say much, so just keep talking.”
“Got it,” Nate said, his voice overamplified and crackling.
“You’re killing me,” Quinn said. “Turn down your gain.”
There was a pause, then Nate said, “Better?” His voice sounded almost normal.
“Yes. Thanks,” he said.
Two minutes later he came to a small open field. Though he was pretty sure the assassin in the tree wouldn’t be able to see him, he kept to the dark shadows at the edge of the clearing.
“He’s still in the tree,” Nate said. “But he’s moved back, closer to the trunk. Harder to see.”
“I still don’t see signs of anyone else. I think he might be working alone.”
Quinn wasn’t ready to concede that possibility yet. He’d seen too much in his years in the business, seen too many people who had been killed because they underestimated their opponent. He removed the sound suppressor from his jacket and attached it to his weapon. Any shot Quinn took at this point wouldn’t be to scare the guy, it would be to hit him.
“I’ve got no movement from the men on the ground,” Nate said.
There wouldn’t be. They were all dead the second Quinn and Nate had seen the muzzle flashes on the screen. The assassin got the first three shots off before any of the men in the church could react. The range was not much more than thirty yards. So close it was almost cheating for a trained marksman. Kill shots, all of them. No question. The only reason there’d been a delay before the fourth man was killed was that the assassin hadn’t had a clean shot. So he’d waited a few seconds for the man to panic, and run for someplace new to hide, then bang. Four dead.
“Wait,” Nate said. “I think he’s climbing down.”
Quinn had reentered the trees on the far side of the pasture and was once again fighting the underbrush. He guessed he was about a minute away from the old church grounds. From this direction, he would reach the graveyard first.
“He’s on the ground, but staying close to the tree. I can see his weapon, though. Hold on, let me zoom in.” There was a pause. “I think it’s a Galil.”
That would make sense, Quinn thought. A Galil sniper rifle using subsonic rounds could be silenced effectively. Plus the weapon was light and easily portable. An excellent choice.
Ahead Quinn could see the trees thinning. Beyond would be the graveyard. He slowed as he reached the edge of the woods, and crouched down low. Less than ten feet away from where the trees ended was a ragged row
