Chapter 1

June 11, 2008
Roanoke, Virginia
4:41 PM

Ethan Conway glanced at the time on his desktop nervously. There were only a few more minutes before he had to leave for the drop point in order to make it on time. He sighed. It had been a long few months for Ethan. For awhile, his future had seemed so bright. After he'd gotten his doctorate from Berkeley in optics, he'd gotten his dream job, with ITT Corp, in Roanoke, designing night vision systems for the US government. Having married his college sweetheart several years back, he'd been with ITT for five years, having had one child already, with the second on the way. Ethan's life seemed like the American dream, and his modest, but nice three bedroom house in Blue Ridge had come with a white picket fence. "Where did it all go wrong?" thought Ethan.

He knew of course. Ethan's weakness had always been the cards. Even in college, he'd been a sucker for a blackjack table, and with his high paying job as a senior researcher for ITT, he'd been able to raise the stakes quite a bit on his games. However, a run of bad luck had caught up with Ethan. His credit cards maxed out and all of his home equity gone, Ethan was desperate, and when he'd gotten the phone call, he'd been only too willing to arrange a meeting with the man on the phone, whose cultured, accented tones seemed to place his country of origin somewhere in the Middle East. A few thousand dollars for harmless information that could be acquired online seemed like a godsend to Ethan, but the situation had escalated, and Ethan found himself loading a stolen prototype of a complete night vision system into the trunk of his leased BMW 650ci. He'd already received five hundred thousand dollars up front, with three times that coming on the back end, once he delivered the system. Ethan knew this was wrong, but at this point he really had no choice. He was in too deep.

Richmond, Virginia
9:43 PM

Ahmed Yasser glanced over at his companion, Mahmoud, and smirked. Mahmoud was reading a copy of People magazine with entirely too much interest. "What do you see in that infidel trash?" asked Ahmed.

"It passes the time," replied Mahmoud, without looking up from his magazine.

Ahmed snorted, and scanned the surroundings from the comfort of the Suburban. The industrial area seemed to be deserted. His thoughts drifted to the past. In his daydream, the village looked the same as it had in his childhood. Olive trees granted shade from the brilliant sun, and a brook ran through his father's plantation. Birds chirped and the delicious smell of roast mutton came from one of the outbuildings. He ran through the dusty path...

"He comes," said Mahmoud, bringing Ahmed from his reverie. The two got out of the car, as the BMW approached. "Good evening Ethan!" Ahmed boomed, as the researcher nervously got out of his BMW. He walked around the car and went to the trunk. Ahmed reached his hand behind his back and imperceptibly slipped the safety off of his P228. While Ethan had been a good source, once they had the complete system, they had no further need of him. Al Qaeda did not have the habit of paying millions to infidels. "Besides," Ahmed thought, "If the infidel would so readily betray his country, he'd certainly betray us."

Ethan reached into the trunk and extracted a long, heavy case, and walked over to the Suburban, putting the box on the open tailgate. Mahmoud and Ahmed stood, eagerly awaiting a look at what was inside. Ethan moved to open the case, then suddenly broke into a spasm of coughing. Ahmed knew from his file that the researcher was an asthmatic. "Weak fool," thought Ahmed, but appeared to be solicitous, putting a hand on Ethan's shoulder in apparent sympathy. Ethan reached into his jacket for his inhaler, and moved it into position. Ahmed tapped his foot impatiently, wanting to be done with the transaction. Suddenly, a mist hit Ahmed in the face. Before he could react, his nervous system started to shut down from the incapacitating dose of carafentanyl from Ethan's inhaler. Ethan spun and sprayed Mahmoud full in the face as well. In seconds, both men were down.

"Targets down," said Ethan into his earpiece. Three other men in urban pattern camouflage emerged from positions within feet, lowering their weapons.

"Rifle 1 standing down," heard Ethan through his earpiece, as the sniper providing cover packed his things up and descended a nearby fire escape from his perch 200 meters away. The men quickly loaded the unconscious Arabs into the Suburban and the convoy headed south.

June 19, 2008
Unknown Location, Virginia
12:30 AM

Ahmed stirred. "Wake up," he heard, followed by a deluge of icy water. Each drop was a pinprick on his naked body, and he grunted.

"Shit," he thought. "Where am I?" was his second thought. He couldn't see anything, and as he tried to move his limbs, he realized he was blindfolded and tied down. The blindfold was roughly ripped from his face, and he blinked at the intense light shining directly into his eyes. On the periphery of the brilliant light, he could make out forms. "Americans," he thought. "Am I in Guantanamo Bay?" was his second thought. As the picture solidified, he noticed that none of his captors were wearing uniforms. Most of them were wearing nondescript black clothing, but one of them wore a lab coat.

"Ahmed," said one of his captors, a tall, powerfully built, middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair, cropped short. "We know you're with Al Qaeda. Tell us who you're working with,"

Ahmed tried to spit, but couldn't move his head. "I'm a Saudi businessman," he said. "My government will be furious when they find out I've been abducted," he said, with conviction.

Daniels shook his head, and nodded slightly, with no emotion. Ahmed saw motion out of the corner of his eye, but nothing could have prepared him for what happened next. He saw a flash of steel, then a 1/8" strip of flesh was ripped from his thumb by a razor sharp blade held by the man in white. His world went to red and he screamed. The pain intensified a hundredfold as nerves started to pass on the signal, and his body convulsed as he instinctly wanted to bring his hand in. However, the restraint didn't allow him to move his arm even a centimeter. He swiveled his head and saw blood dripping from his thumb, which moved spasomadically. His hand was secured, palm facing up with metal restraints. Ahmed waited for the pain to dull, but it did not.