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Once she was in the gazebo, she wouldn’t be able to see anything. We were her eyes.

She took a seat on the bench, pulled out a paperback, and began reading. She looked a little out of place—a single female in the gazebo—but not unduly so.

Ten minutes later, Brett called again, saying, “I’ve got the target. Male, about five-ten, with a preteen girl holding his hand. He’s looking around like he’s trying to find the bad man. It’s him.”

Carly said, “Roger that. Pike, status?”

“You’re still good. Nobody on the road or the path. All activity is at the memorial. Brett, any trailers?”

“None so far. He’s leading the child alone. Nobody’s shown any interest.”

Good.

Eventually I made out a man and a child walking down the path in the darkening gloom. I keyed the radio and said, “Target inbound. Walking slow.”

The man stopped short of the gazebo, and Carly stood up, running her hand through her hair, telling him it was okay. He approached, entered, and sat the girl on the bench. He turned to Carly and said a few words. She responded, and I saw him smile in relief.

Knuckles kicked my leg, saying, “Someone coming up the path.”

I focused there and saw three males walking up the trail and talking. Not trying to hide their appearance.

I keyed the radio and said, “Three MAMs inbound. Dressed like locals, talking and laughing. Don’t think they’re a threat.”

The age was a concern. If it had been two males and a ninety-year-old female I’d feel more comfortable.

Carly put the target on the inside of the gazebo bench, then sat next to him, her body the closest to the opening of the iron gazebo. She called the girl forward and began to pretend she was engaging her in conversation.

I got on the net and said, “Koko, Koko, ready for exfil. Start your move. We’ve got activity here.”

Jennifer came back, saying, “We’re on the way. Lock is already defeated. Five minutes out.”

Knuckles said, “MAMs are slowing down outside the gazebo.”

I looked at them and saw the lead man pull something out of his pants. It was long, like a section of pipe, and I recognized it immediately. A suppressed pistol. On the net, I shouted, “Gun, gun, gun!” and saw him put the barrel right between Carly’s eyes.

He pulled the trigger and I saw her beautiful face crater open, the bullet splitting her eyes left and right like someone had driven a spike into her skull. Then her head jerked back, hitting the grating of the gazebo, and I saw her hands fly up.

She flopped over and I stood up, Knuckles right behind me. I heard a car screaming up the hill and yelled into my radio, “Hostile force! Hostile force! Koko, Veep, take them down!”

I burst out of the bushes, Knuckles tearing through to my right, both of us drawing our Glocks from a holster.

Jennifer came back, saying, “We’re not there. Still a minute out.”

I realized the vehicle wasn’t Jennifer just as the window of the car came down. It was the enemy. I felt the wasp-snap of rounds coming by my head. I dove behind a tree, rolled to the right around the trunk, and saw the target and his child being crammed into the back seat. In seconds, it was heading back the way it had come.

Knuckles stood up, running flat out behind the vehicle, blazing away with his pistol in the night, eventually taking a knee and continuing to fire, to no avail. I ran to the gazebo and saw Carly’s shattered body. She was slumped over as if she’d had too much to drink, her head leaking blood in a slow stream like a faucet that hadn’t been turned off all the way.

I heard Knuckles behind me and turned, pushing him away. He tore at my arms and I slammed him like he was a blocking dummy, getting him away from the gazebo, saying, “No, no, no. You don’t want to see it. She’s gone.”

He screamed in my face, a visceral, lethal wail, and I put my leg behind his and flipped him on his back. He hit the ground and began to fight me. I trapped his arms and leaned above him, saying, “Stop. Stop. Stop. We have to get out of here.”

He gained control of his rage and said, “Carly.”

I said, “She’s gone. She’s under diplomatic cover. The CIA is going to have to sort this out.”

I saw headlights, then Jennifer was out of her car, running to me. She saw the body in the dusk of the gazebo and said, “Is that...?”

I hoisted Knuckles to his feet and said, “Yeah, it is. Let’s go.”