Page 84 of Silent Target

“Federal tactical team! Drop your weapons and place your hands above your heads!”

These aren’t Graves’s mercenaries.

They’re legitimate federal officers acting on false intelligence.

Men and women who believe they’ve cornered armed terrorists responsible for attacking a classified facility.

“We can’t shoot them,” I whisper.

“We won’t,” Caleb says.

Rook surveys the trail. “Options?”

Mac pushes himself away from the tree. He can barely stand, but his eyes remain alert.

“You want to know what Graves does next?”

Rook looks at him. “You helped write his playbook.”

“I did.”

“Then talk.”

Mac glances toward the approaching federal teams. “Graves stops thinking like a soldier.”

Cobra adjusts his rifle. “And?”

“He starts thinking like a politician.”

“I hate politicians.”

A faint smile passes across Mac’s bruised face. “After today, so will all of you.”

Fathom checks the satellite feed.

“More teams are moving into position. State police on the highways. Federal tactical units on the mountain. National Guard checkpoints farther out.”

“They’re closing every exit,” I say.

“No,” Mac replies. “They’re closing every public exit.”

Rook’s gaze hardens. “You know another way.”

“I know several. I helped Graves design contingency plans for this region.”

“Convenient,” Cobra mutters.

Mac doesn’t defend himself.

“You don’t trust me.”

“No,” Rook says.

“You shouldn’t.” Mac rubs his bleeding wrists. “I spent years helping men like Walter Graves build emergency networks. I know the old roads, the buried tunnels, and the Cold War escape routes.”

Regret changes his voice.

“I wish I didn’t.”