Prologue
Reeves
~3 years ago, somewhere near Lake Erie, Ohio
My heart drums in my ears, beating fast and hard. I'm poised. My face reveals nothing. No stress, no panic, not so much as a twitch of a muscle or a bead of sweat. I do this thing I've mastered throughout the years. I hold my eyes cold and calculated - they tell nothing. I look at the dark, bearded man before me square in the eyes, waiting. No matter what, I cannot blow my cover. We, that is, Ben-who's sitting on the sofa opposite me-and I can't reveal our cover no matter what the cost. I inwardly repeat: there are thousands of lives on the line.
"Did you think you could pull it off? " the man asks. He has a deep scar across his prickled cheek and he holds a semi-automatic at my best friend Ben's temple. "We are onto you, you son of a bitch. " He grits his teeth and kicks Ben full in the ribs.
Ben groans and my gut wrenches viciously. We manage to exchange a concealed glance between us, a flit of a glance that says so much, a look that feels more like a goodbye. I take inner deep breaths and summon every bit of willpower I have to stay still. A strong intuition brews within me. Something terrible is about to happen. My entire body throbs with dread. And there's absolutely nothing I can fucking do. Nothing! At the back of our minds, Ben and I have always known that something like this could happen to either of us, if not both of us.
I've looked death in the eyes so many times that it's become habitual. But this time, I'm petrified because it's not my life that's at risk, it's my best friend who I've known for the last fifteen years who's in real danger. There's more talking in this Middle Eastern language that I'm fluent in. Words pronounced deeper in the throat are barked at Ben. I hear but I don't listen. Inside I'm numb. I know what's coming is inevitable, and with each ticking of the clock, the anxiety within me grows. Both tanned, solemn men give me another assessing scan just to make sure they are right, that I truly am one of them.
With a small confirming nod from the guy in the expensive suit who is sitting on the plush sofa across the misty room, the gun goes off once.
For a beat, before mourning enfolds me, I'm paralyzed. I look at the scene before me, because I know I'm expected to. It could be some sick initiation I'm supposed to pass. I look, but I look through it, I don't see it. I'm playing a part. I'm on a mission that can save many civilian lives. That's what's holding me back from losing control and exacting merciless retribution for Ben's life. I cannot break down. I cannot blow this thing up. Instead, I keep my face placid, slouching back in the chair, looking the killer straight in the eyes. As Ben's body drops, my heart stops.
With his last breath, I know my life would never be the same.
