The van shook hard on the mountain road. It was loud. Too loud for the quiet inside.
The mole sat with his hands zip-tied in his lap. David had put them on him right after cutting the chains—standard procedure for a package you didn't trust. He looked worse under the van's weak light. Skin like old paper.
"These won't stop them," the mole said, his voice flat. He raised his bound wrists a little. "She tell you why they had me?"
"Intel. Terror money," Godwin said from the front, watching the road.
The mole made a sound like a cough. A dry laugh. "Yeah. Sure. I was a numbers guy. An accountant. I found a money pipe. They call it Chimera."
Stephanie looked up from her screen. "A what?"
"A pipe. For washing cash. Not from drugs. From companies." He looked at Godwin in the mirror. "The Brazilian executive's son. The kidnapping. That was a Chimera pressure play. The company was on the list. They break you, then buy the pieces for nothing."
Godwin's blood went cold. The empty room in Rio flashed in his mind. He doesn't know.
"You're working off old intel," Godwin said, his voice low. "We never found the boy. The room was empty. The whole thing was a setup."
For the first time, real shock broke through the mole's hollow expression. His eyes widened. "Empty? But… the reports… the money trail was activated…" He stared into nothing, connecting terrible dots. "Then it wasn't about the company. It was about you. They used the kidnapping to draw you out. To test you. And they used my intel as the bait."
"Test us for what?" David asked, leaning forward.
Before the mole could answer, a white flash exploded outside the windshield.
"AMBUSH!"
The world went to hell. The van swerved, metal screaming. Gunfire rained down from the rocks. Not messy. Precise. Professional.
Godwin fought the wheel. "Steph, get us an exit!"
"Comms are dead! Total jam!"
Makarov was already firing back. "Two shooters, ridge left! One with a heavy rifle!"
It was a trap. Just like the mole said. They weren't here for a fight. They were here for cleanup.
Godwin saw it in slow motion. The mole, sitting still. Not scared. Just waiting. He'd known this was the only way his ride ended.
The side window behind him spider-webbed and then vanished. A single, heavy THUMP hit the seat.
Not the seat.
The mole's head snapped to the side. He slumped, a dark hole where his temple was. A sniper. Armor-piercing. Just for him. An execution.
The firing stopped maybe thirty seconds later. Like someone turned off a switch.
Silence. Just the hiss of the ruined engine and someone breathing hard.
"Clear," Makarov growled, but it wasn't a question.
Godwin turned. The mole was gone. Just a body.
David was staring at the body's hand. Clenched tight. "Boss."
Godwin leaned over. He pried the dead fingers open. Inside was a tiny black chip, slick with sweat. A data drive.
Linda's voice screeched over the radio, the jam gone. "CEN-1! STATUS! IS THE ASSET SECURE?"
Godwin looked at the chip. He looked at his team. Stephanie, face pale. David, jaw tight. Makarov, eyes already on the next threat.
He keyed the mic. His voice was dirt. "Asset is gone."
A hiss of dead air. Then Linda, cold as stone. "Explain that failure."
"We're inbound," Godwin said, and killed the comm.
He held the tiny drive up between his thumb and finger.
"He died for this," Godwin said. "Linda's gonna want blood for losing him. The guys out there are gonna want us dead for seeing this." He paused. "And he said we were being tested. That all of it was a test."
"For what?" Stephanie asked, her voice small.
Godwin looked at the dead man, then at the chip.
"Let's find out."
He looked at each of them.
"We give this to her, we're just hired help. We look at it ourselves…" He trailed off. The meaning hung there, heavy as the gun smoke.
"We're in the war."
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