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The temperature had long-since blown past 120 degrees when a cloud of dust rising from the bush obscured the house’s driveway and roused him to full alertness. A visitor, maybe? Strangely, though, no vehicle pulled into view in the cleared area around the house.

He waited a couple of minutes, but nothing. And no cloud of dust announced that a car had turned around and gone back the other direction.

What the hell? He scanned the edges of the clearing carefully. Nada. Intrigued, he reached for his heating-seeking scope and took a look.

Bingo. Warm blobs at eleven o’clock. Human-sized. Two of them. Both squatting, appearing to hunker down to wait for something or someone. He settled in to wait out this new quarry. What were they up to?

He didn’t have long to wait to find out. In about ten minutes, activity erupted at the rear of the house. The back door opened and a man stepped outside into Ian’s range of vision. He carried a cooler-sized container of some kind. It looked made of Styrofoam. The man opened the back of a Land Rover and stowed the cooler in the back.

Over the next few minutes, the same guy carried out two more coolers. On his way back inside the third time, he paused on the back porch and made a quick cell phone call. More importantly, he turned so Ian could see his face.

Quickly, Ian snapped pictures of the man. Middle-eastern in coloring and features. Late thirties in age, maybe. Neat. Well-groomed. Was this the Palestinian scientist he’d been tracking? The guy had the look of a scholar about him.

The man started the Land Rover. Windows rolled up. So it was air-conditioned. What was in those coolers that he was so concerned about keeping cool?

The target made another trip inside and came back out.

Ian stared, shocked. That was a kid with him. A little girl. No more than seven or eight years old if he had to guess. She was fucking carrying a doll. The man led her to the passenger side of the vehicle and helped her in. Ian photographed the whole thing, but simmering anger smoldered in his gut. It was pretty shitty of a terrorist to use a child as a cover.

Yet again, the man disappeared into the building.

Ian started as activity at the front of the house caught his attention. The blobs from the other side of the house had stepped out of the bush and now approached the front porch. They were both carrying what looked like big gasoline containers. What the hell?

Perhaps two minutes passed.

The terrorist exited the back of the house and climbed into the Land Rover.

Shit. He was going to have to hoof it back to his Jeep to be in time to pick up the guy’s Land Rover when it hit the main road. He would have to follow the guy at a distance because of the dust trails out here on the unpaved roads, but he was no amateur. No way in hell was he losing this bastard now that he finally had contact with the Palestinian.

Ian stood up, careful to keep brush between him and the driveway. He shouldered his backpack and took a step into the bush when yet another movement captured his attention.

Something—someone—was creeping onto the back stoop. Stealthily. And there was something familiar about the silhouette?—

Nonononononono. Curses erupted in his skull as he swung the binoculars up to his face.

Goddamnit. What was Piper doing here? His attention swung back to the Land Rover’s dust retreating all too quickly down the driveway. He had to go. Now.

She disappeared into the house while he debated with himself. His job was to track the Scientist. But she needed back-up in the worst way. Two men had just snuck in the front door!

Cover her six? Chase the terrorist? No choice in the matter. He had to do his job. He spun for the bush and his vehicle.

But then he heard some sort of scuffle inside the house. He spun back around reflexively. Damn it all.

The front door opened and two Caucasian men came outside. They moved quickly, but not in alarm.

Fuck. Had they jumped Piper? Taken her out? Was that a fight he’d heard? Was she injured or dead inside the house?

He swore violently. Hehadto leave her behind!

But then something else caught his attention. A tendril of smoke curled out the front door before the men shut it behind them. They chatted casually as they jogged down the front steps and headed for the driveway. They weren’t concerned about her, that was for damned sure.

The Palestinian was getting away.

Piper was inside that house.

And if he wasn’t mistaken, those two men had just set the house on fire.

Fuck. Fucking fuck, fuck.