A Gentleman's Game

50

Saudi Arabia-Tabuk Province, the Wadi-as-Sirhan 22 September 0309:03 Local (GMT+3.00)

There weren't many survivors, but there were enough to keep Chace busy. She hopped her sights from one to the next, squeezing each burst carefully, timing the shots, placing them precisely. She went for center mass, tracking shots where she needed to, one burst for most, two when required.

She reloaded and heard the sounds of the dying, and then heard something else, and whipped around, dropping to her back and bringing the P90 up at the same time, seeing the man twenty feet behind her, his hands folded on his head. All the same, her finger had almost descended on the trigger before she registered what she was seeing, and it took another half a second before the adrenaline coursing through her allowed his words to register.

"Friendly," the man was saying over and over again. "CIA, friendly, CIA."

Chace scrambled to her feet, sprinting toward him, the P90 in one hand. She grabbed his hair and yanked him over onto his back, dropping to a knee and driving the muzzle against his neck. He looked at her with pure alarm, his mouth working inarticulately.

"Friendly," he gabbled. "Friendly, in the name of God, I'm friendly."

"Who the fuck are you?" Chace hissed in return, and she pushed the muzzle harder against his neck.

"Matteen Agha," he said, and his English was accented, vaguely American. "My controller is Dennis Heppler at Langley, Juliet-ought-eight-nine-nine-two, please, I'm a friend, you must believe me."

"Nobody told me that I could find friends here."

The man closed his eyes, whispered, "I am unarmed, I am unarmed, please, you must believe me."

Chace gritted her teeth, the frustration and impatience raging. "Where did you come from, why the hell aren't you in the camp? Did you know we were coming?"

Matteen Agha shook his head, or tried to, saying, "No, we were on our way back, we were in Egypt. There were bombs, I warned Heppler, I told him there were five-"

"We?"

"-of the bombers, we were paired with them to act as their handlers-"

Chace yanked on his hair, hard, trying to silence him. "We?"

"My partner and I-"

The realization was utterly horrifying, and she released her grip on him, trying to get to her feet, turning to look across the wadi, opening her mouth to shout the warning.

Too late.