When she nodded, he started the engine. The rear of the plane opened slowly; the floor behind them lowered into a steep ramp. With a salute to the medical team, Rick put the vehicle in reverse, then backed onto the tarmac.

Brilliant sunshine blinded her momentarily. Jamie grabbed her sunglasses and put them on. It was late March, and the Middle Eastern desert temperature was pleasant. At least Zach hadn’t had to suffer through the summer heat.

Rick checked his compass, then hit the gas. Within five minutes, they were driving due north and the plane was out of sight.

“Once we leave the jeep, I’m going to need an hour and fifteen minutes,” Rick said, going over what they’d planned.

“I brought a book to help pass the time.”

He glanced at her and grinned. “Loosen up, Sanders. It’ll take a lot more than these guys to kill Zach. You know that. They don’t come any tougher than him.”

“I know.”

She tugged her cap lower over her forehead. If their luck was good, no one would see the jeep speeding along the dirt-and-sand-coated paved road. They would get to the compound, blow up the depot, get Zach and be gone. If their luck was bad-

Jamie refused to think about that. She’d known the risks involved when she’d stormed into Winston’s office. Being obliterated by the depot explosion was the least of her concerns.

She shifted on her seat, then reached over her shoulder to pull her long braid out of the way. As she fingered the end, she remembered the first time Zach had told her she had to cut her hair before she returned to class the next day. She’d spent the night studying regulations and had reported back that short hair wasn’t one of the rules. They weren’t in the military, after all. The agency’s purpose was to quickly protect U.S. interests abroad-by whatever means necessary.

She felt her lips curve into a smile. Zach had been mad enough to spit nails. For a second, something had flickered in his gaze. She’d wanted to believe it was respect. He’d leaned so close, she’d felt his breath on her face.