The night pressed around Sawyer, heavy and humid. It was the kind of Panama heat that clung to his lungs.

  Sawyer’s boots scuffed along the cracked sidewalk until he found the squat cement building with peeling paint and a rusted balcony. The little apartment was as forgettable as they came and exactly what he wanted. Inside, was a one bedroom apartment with yellowed walls, a sagging mattress, and the faint stink of mildew and cleaning chemicals from whoever had prepped it for a new tenant.

  The lease belonged to Daniel Smith, an identity buried deep in Project Ledger’s cover files. It was an untraceable name he hadn’t touched since Afghanistan.

  Sawyer made a slow circuit of the block before settling in. He kept his hands loose at his sides and tried passing for casual as his eyes swept the darkened windows. He listened for the telltale cadence of tailing footsteps. Two police cruisers rolled past him on lazy routes. So far, no danger pinged his instincts.

  Figuring the place was clear for now, he shut the door behind him and locked it.

  He sat on the edge of the mattress with his burner phone. The screen lit with the name Colonel Bradford.

  Bradford’s voice came through, low and tired like he’d been watching a situation unfold for too long without liking where it was headed.

  “Kestrel. You’re still breathing?”

  “For now,” Sawyer said. “What did your eyes see? Where is Asmodeus? Where is Cormac?”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  There was a pause and the sound of rustling papers on the other end. Then Bradford came back. “Asmodeus cleared the port. She’s halfway to California by now.”

  “Then he’s gone.”

  “Not necessarily. A couple of hours ago, one of your informants left a message on my burner phone. He gave us a tip that BlackDiamond was hosting a conference in Panama City. One of our analysts identified a bound and hooded figure being offloaded from the Asmodeus and into a black SUV. We believe the hooded figure is Cormac.”

  “You really think it’s him? It could have been anyone.”

  “Can’t get a positive ID, but I say it’s likely. They drove a route straight for the conference. The informant tailed them. I can confirm they are still there and will be for some time.”

  Sawyer was already on his feet. He pulled the silver dagger from his bag and slid it into the sheath at the small of his back. Next came the .45. He threaded on the suppressor with practiced turns. “Where is he exactly?”

  “JW Marriott Tower. Expect heavy security.”

  Sawyer slung on his jacket and tucked his pistol out of sight. “I’m going in.”

  “Do you have a plan?”

  “Infiltration. Get in and get him out.”

  Bradford exhaled hard through the line. “Kestrel…you know what kind of nest you’re about to kick? This event is the real deal, I have images of BlackDiamond executives filling the venue. Be on your guard.”

  “I’ve been kicking hornet nests since Afghanistan. I’m not leaving my brother behind. And whatever Harland Morrow is doing there, I’m going to figure it out and disrupt it if I can.”

  “Good luck, Kestrel.”

  The call ended. The apartment fell silent except for the beat of Sawyer’s pulse flooding his ears. With his mission to save his brother in mind, he stepped out into the night.