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  “Uh,” Vice-Admiral Henderson said. “You’re sure you want to know?”

  “My buddy Admiral Ingram?” Alex asked.

  The look on the Vice-Admiral’s face answered her question. She swore again.

  “You’ll be lucky if you lost just one of your men,” Alex said.

  “You’ve been there?” Vice-Admiral Henderson said. Alex nodded. “It sounded like hell in the briefing. Eight months of winter and still snow in summer?”

  “There are at least ten thousand people who would disagree with you,” Alex said. “They live their entire lives at the top of the world. I will tell you that it is shockingly beautiful. Breathtaking. And the people are wonderful.”

  “That’s the place that used to be a trade route until the Chinese blocked the border with Afghanistan?” Leena asked. “Trapped the nomads there?”

  “That’s it,” Alex said. “But I don’t think the Kyrgyz feel very trapped. The Wakhi, either. Do you remember what they are?”

  Alex looked in the rearview mirror at Leena.

  “The Wahki?” Leena scowled and thought for a minute. “I do know! Ha!”

  She looked very proud of herself.

  “And they are?” Alex asked.

  “They are not a ‘what,’ they are a ‘who,’” Leena said. “They have different names depending on what country they live in. In Afghanistan, they are the Pamiri and Tajikis in China.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Vice-Admiral Henderson said. “Same people?”

  “Same area of the world,” Alex said with a nod. “Split up by the Durand line, the Great Game, and British map making. They live a fairly simple life. Because of their setting, they don’t have time or energy to pursue excesses or perversions. They are delightful, fun to be around, charming, really, and brutal and distrusting to anyone they do not know.”

  Alex looked in the rearview mirror at Leena.

  “What’s the difference between the Kyrgyz and the Wakhi?” Alex asked.

  “The Kyrgyz are Sunni Muslim, and the Wakhi are Shia Muslim,” Leena said. “I can’t believe I remembered that.”

  Alex grinned at her. The Vice-Admiral looked out the passenger window for a moment.

  “They are asking for you,” Vice-Admiral Henderson said.

  “Who are?” Alex asked.

  “The ‘nice, young American soldiers,’” Vice-Admiral Henderson said. “After everything that’s happened, I hesitate to ask, but . . .”

  “Are you sure this isn’t a trap?” Alex asked.

  “To find you? Figure out where the Fey Team is hiding?” Vice-Admiral Henderson asked. He shook his head. “We’re not sure of anything. That’s the honest truth.”

  He looked at Alex before looking out his window.

  “I listened to the recording three times. They say their leader is DUSTWUN or dead. It’s garbled so we can’t be sure. They say that they are lost. They ask for you,” Vice-Admiral Henderson said to the passenger window. “They will be back in satellite range in ninety minutes. We hoping to connect with these boys then.”

  He glanced at Alex.

  “Where do I need to go?” Alex asked.

  “A helo is waiting for me at . . .” Vice-Admiral Henderson started.

  “We’re fifteen minutes from Pendleton,” Alex said. “There is an intelligence area there that is connected to the national center.”

  “The Fey Team is at Pendleton?” Vice-Admiral Henderson asked.

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss that,” Alex said.

  “No one knew where to find you,” Vice-Admiral Henderson said. “Or the team. Not a soul. We found you today because your dog has a chip in her neck.”

  “Maggie’s chip, sir?” Alex asked.

  “They were able to detect it,” Vice-Admiral Henderson said. “Those bastards at the NSA found the signal. Satellite picked up the dogs, your mother’s vehicle, and the umbrellas. I was in town for . . . work. I was asked to get you because I know what you look like.”

  “That you do,” Alex said.

  “How are you able to connect to the Intelligence Center, and no one knows where you are?” Vice-Admiral Henderson asked.

  Alex smiled, and the Admiral held up his hands.

  “You’re right. I don’t want to know,” Vice-Admiral Henderson said with something between a snort and a laugh. “I can leave all of that intelligence mumbo-jumbo to you.”

  “Will that connection work?” Alex asked. “If we’re flying, I’d rather take my own chopper.”

  “The Jakker,” Vice-Admiral Henderson said with a rueful shake of his head. “Of course, you do.”

  He squinted at Alex.

  “Who owns the Black Hawk?” Vice-Admiral Henderson asked.

  “Why, sir!” Alex said in a thick Southern United States accent. “You dare to ask about my private business?”

  “That just is not polite, sir!” Leena said in the same accent.

  Vice-Admiral Henderson squinted.

  “You can order me to tell you, but I would remind you that I am dead,” Alex said.

  Vice-Admiral Henderson laughed.

  “Just looking out for you, little lady,” Vice-Admiral Henderson said in the same accent. “I just didn’t want it to be repo-ed like my daddy’s T-bird one day before that long-promised road trip to the shore.”

  They laughed. After a moment, Alex nodded. She glanced at the Admiral before turning over the sun visor. She pressed a button on something that looked like a speaker.

  “Lost team. Wakhan Corridor. Asking for me. Leader DUSTWUN,” Alex said. “Vice-Admiral Henderson came to ask. He says there’s a tape of their communication.”

  Looking puzzled, Alex turned to look at Vice-Admiral Henderson.

  “You’re wearing some kind of tracking device,” Alex said. The Vice-Admiral looked at his uniform and shrugged. “The vehicle has an electronic block. It seems to have worked so far. But command is asking for you. They’re about to send a team after you.”

  Alex looked up at the speaker and said, “Roger that.”

  “What was that?” Vice-Admiral Henderson asked.

  “I’m to go with you rather than expose the team,” Alex said. She took the off ramp to McClellan-Palomar Airport. “They’re going to meet us here.”

  “They?” Vice-Admiral Henderson asked.

  “A few of my team are familiar with the Wakhan,” Alex said.

  “You have that?” he asked.

  “Of course.” She gave him a half-smile, “Do you know where we’re going?”

  “I do,” Vice-Admiral Henderson said.

  “Good,” Alex said.

  She pulled into the short term parking lot. They parked in a short-term parking spot. Alex got out of the driver’s seat and went around to the back of the SUV. Maggie jumped out, and Alex grabbed her leash. Alex was coming around the vehicle when her assistant, Sergeant Alexander Roger Ulysses Cummings III, who they called “Sergeant Dusty,” passed through the space between the cars in front of her. He took Maggie’s leash and, the car keys, and gave Alex a small duffle bag. With a nod to Leena, Sergeant Dusty helped Maggie back into the SUV, got into the driver’s seat, and drove away.

  “All this cloak and dagger,” Vice-Admiral Henderson said.

  “It’s good practice,” Alex said.

  “We’ve had to do this a few times in the field,” Leena said. “It’s harder than it looks, sir.”

  “We have struggled with this kind of pass-off,” Alex said. “They’re hard, and we’ve been a little clunky. Any chance we get to practice is a good chance.”

  The Vice-Admiral squinted his eyes and nodded to her.

  “Old-world spy technique?” he asked.

  Alex smiled.

  “What kind of a team are you building?” Vice Admiral Henderson asked and then seemed to regret it.

  “One that’s ready to adapt to the challenges ahead of us,” Alex grinned and nodded.

  He looked surprised and stopped walking. He glanced at Alex, and she raised
her eyebrows. Without saying another word, he took out his sunglasses and put them on. They went into the terminal.

  “Sir, I need a few minutes,” Alex said. Royce walked up to where they were standing. “This is Chief Royce Tubman, sir. He will help you get in touch with your people.”

  Alex nodded to Royce and walked toward the restrooms. She took the family toilet because it had more space. Leena walked past her toward the women’s restroom. Alex went inside the small room and locked the door behind her.

  She set her burner cell phone on the sink and pressed “1.”

  “Go,” Alex said as she pulled off the wig and hat.

  “Admiral Ingram wants the world and terrorists to know that they cannot hide among the native peoples of the world,’” Raz said into the Bluetooth earbud she’d been wearing the whole time. “He said that when we were in his office.”

  “He did?” Alex asked.

  She stripped off the tankini bathing suit. She used a microfiber towel from the duffle to remove sand from her softer parts.

  “Right before he kicked us out,” Raz said.

  “What did I say?” Alex asked as she stepped into her underwear.

  “‘What are you talking about?’” Raz asked.

  “I’m wondering what I said that pissed him off,” Alex said with a laugh. “I’ve tried to remember, but I don’t. Do you?”

  Raz laughed. Alex pulled on a lightweight tank top.

  “Who’s on first?” Raz asked.

  “Oh!” Alex laughed. She started to wiggle into her specially made bodysuit of body armor. “I said, ‘What are you talking about?’ That’s certainly what I’m thinking right now. Kind of ‘huh?’ Probably just popped out.”

  “Exactly,” Raz said.

  She grabbed the cord on the zipper and pulled the long zipper up the back of her body armor. She used the wall to press down the Velcro flap that covered the zipper.

  “I didn’t remember that — thanks,” Alex said as she tucked the zipper cord into the neck of her body armor. “You think that’s what set him off?”

  “Possibly,” Raz said. “As I’ve said, I’m pretty sure that he planned to dismiss you.”

  “Mmm,” Alex said as she stepped into a dark-green jumpsuit. She zipped it to her navel, before adding, “What’s in the Wakhan Corridor that anyone might want?”

  Because the jumpsuit was hot, she tied the arms in front of her and continued to dress.

  “Oil,” Raz said.

  “Oil?” Alex asked. “It would be easier to dig for oil on the moon than in the Wakhan Corridor, not to mention which of four countries would have rights to said oil.”

  “But it does create a reason for countries to go to war,” Raz said.

  There was mumbling in the background.

  “Just a sec,” Raz said.

  While her team mumbled back and forth, Alex sat down on the toilet to pull on her socks and lace up her boots.

  “MJ says there’s a study that shows that nine medicinal herbs grow in the Wakhan Corridor that can’t grow anywhere else,” Raz said. “Some big Pharma group is looking at them for cures to cancer. I hadn’t heard it, but MJ said it’s a big deal.”

  “So our Admiral might be after oil or herbs,” Alex said.

  “Yes,” Raz said.

  Thinking it through, she fell silent. Raz waited.

  “Well, that seems dumb,” Alex said. “How does this fulfill our mission of protecting the United States? Seems like it would just piss people off and create more distrust among people who have no stake in any game.”

  Raz grunted in agreement.

  “I wonder if he knows any native peoples,” Alex said.

  “You asked him that just before he threw us out of his office,” Raz said with a laugh.

  “I guess I can stop wondering what I did to piss him off,” Alex said. She laughed. “Anyway, did you call the Kyrgyz? The Wakhi?”

  In a region so desolate that the Taliban refused to go there, the Kyrgyz and Wakhi lived in relative peace at fourteen hundred feet in the mountainous panhandle at the top of Afghanistan called Wakhan Corridor. Created in the “Great Game” as a buffer between Russia Empire (now Tajikistan) and the British Empire (now Pakistan), the Wakhan once served as a vital part of the Silk Road. When Mao closed the Chinese border in 1949, about one thousand Kyrgyz were trapped in these mountains. Over the years, most of the Kyrgyz had resettled to Turkey. A few families stayed in the little Pamir mountains on the north side of the Wakhan. The Wakhi lived in the valley where they had small farms and raised sheep. Both tribes consisted of family groupings.

  While cellular service is nonexistent in the Wakhan Corridor, both tribes love smartphones. Alex and the Fey Team had left solar satellite phones with the leaders of the tribes with no strings attached. The solar panels on the satellite phones had the added bonus of being able to charge cell phones. This single feature kept the satellite phones in great condition and well maintained. The families mostly used the phones to keep in touch with children who had moved to cities in nearby countries for work.

  “It’s pretty late there, but we were able to catch them on the sat-phones,” Raz said. “They haven’t seen a military team — SEALs or otherwise. The Wakhi agreed to send out scouts, and the Kyrgyz are sending their people to their look outs. We should hear back in an hour or so.”

  “By the time I get to the ship,” Alex said.

  “I’ll let you know when we do,” Raz said.

  Alex stood before her reflection. The last three weeks of beach time had left her with tan skin and sunglasses lines. She hadn’t had a haircut since she’d been in Washington. Her dark hair was sun bleached.

  “Listen,” Raz started. “We’ve looked into everything we possibly can think of. It does seem like there’s a team in those mountains. We haven’t been able to confirm that they are lost. I’ve given you everything I know. But . . .”

  Unable to give voice to his fears, he stopped talking.

  “I know,” Alex said.

  There was a double knock on the door, indicating that Leena was dressed and heading toward the waiting helicopter. Alex shoved her clothing into her duffle. She pulled up the jumpsuit and shrugged her way into it. Looking in the mirror, she smiled at the “FEY” and Vivaldi “F” on her right breast. She touched the “HARGREAVES” on her left pocket. She hadn’t worn her Fey Team gear in more than three weeks. Just this morning, she’d wondered if she would ever suit up again. She turned sideways to see the large white “FEY” across the back of the jumpsuit.

  “Check your pockets,” Raz said.

  Alex patted the pockets of her jumpsuit. A 9 MM Glock was tucked into a holster built into the lower back of the suit. She checked the weapon for ammunition, chambered a round, made sure the safety was on, and tucked it back into the holster. A small set of five throwing knives were stitched into the right leg of the suit. A tiny micro-compound bow with five arrows was in a specially made pocket on her left leg.

  “Your ID is in your right back pocket,” Raz said. “Sergeant Dusty loaded your small tablet with all of your maps, including the original Soviet maps. That should be in your left back pocket.”

  “Perfect,” Alex said. She touched her back pockets to make sure her ID and the tablet were there. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll be in your ear,” Raz said.

  Alex looked at herself in the mirror one last time before she pulled low on her head a dark green baseball cap with her SF tabs on it. She slipped on her wraparound sunglasses. Thinking he was gone, she used the toilet again. Peeing on a Black Hawk was no easy trick, especially over relative civilization.

  “Think penis,” Raz said, after she flushed.

  Alex burst out laughing. She stuffed her clothing into the duffle bag and left the bathroom.

  She’d pretended to be a man for much of her career. With ease, she imitated a man’s walk. She walked toward where Leena was waiting for her, and they started toward airport security. She gave her duffle bag to Vince a
s he passed.

  At airport security, they were escorted to the helicopter pad. Alex stopped at the edge of the helicopter pad. For more than half her life, she would have run forward and jumped into the helicopter. Today, she was overcome by the mere site. Leena touched her arm and ran to get into the helicopter.

  An hour ago, if you had asked her, Alex would have said that this ridiculousness with Admiral Ingram would work itself out. She would have smiled or made a joke.

  At this moment, Alex realized just how certain she’d been that her military career was over. She hadn’t thought she’d ever ride in a Black Hawk again. She never thought she’d see a helicopter with a huge, white Vivaldi “F” on the side. She opened and closed her eyes to try to cement in her mind the mere sight of a Fey helicopter.

  “Alex!” Joseph hopped out of the helicopter and ran in her direction. “You okay?”

  Alex nodded. He escorted her into the helicopter. Once inside, Alex was back on familiar ground. She checked to make sure she had everyone she needed. US Marine Sergeant Michael “MJ” Scully, Junior and US Marine Sergeant Margaret Peaches were sitting next to the opposite door of the helicopter. The Wakhan Corridor had the worst infant-mortality rate of anywhere in the world. MJ and Margaret had made real connections with both the Kyrgyz and the Wakhi people in an effort to reduce infant mortality. The only other surviving member of the Fey Special Forces Team, Joseph had been with Alex when they’d first gone through the Wakhan. For reasons no one could explain, Trece had connections with the Northern Alliance and warlords in every country surrounding the corridor. And Captain Matthew Mac Clenaghan, her second-in-command, in charge of missions, was sitting near the center of the phone working his military connections.

  Shaking her head, she stood in front of Matthew. They’d met at Special Forces training and become fast friends after he’d tried to kill her. He looked up at her and shook his head. He mouthed “What?”

  “We won’t be needing you for this trip,” Alex said.

  “What?” Matthew asked, out loud. When someone responded on the phone, he excused himself from the call with a quick “I have to call you back.”

  He looked up at Alex with eyes laced with hurt and betrayal.

  “Why?” Matthew asked.