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Skeet. And while you’re at it, leave the poor hospital staff alone. They’re just trying to do their
     jobs, and they don’t need you harassing them at every move. I told you I’d get you out just as soon as we’ve covered all our
     bases. Until then, I can’t risk everyone’s safety.”
    Scott had set up camp across the room next to the second-story window. The Regional Security Office of the U.S. Embassy had
     set up a perimeter around the hospital and had assured anonymity for the four friends. Scott had been alternating between
     keeping watch on the security detail outside and following a soccer game on ESPN Deportes on the wall-mounted television.
    One of the nurses brought in a concoction that looked even worse than the guanabana juice the team had ordered the day before.
     She motioned for Skeeter to drink it.
    “Down the hatch, tough guy,” Scott teased.
    Skeeter glared at the drink and then at Scott. “I’ve got something real special planned for you soon as we get home.”
    Scott smirked and glanced back up at the television. Watching the crawler reporting on the PFL draft creep along the bottom
     of the screen, he suddenly bolted upright. “Riley, you are not going to believe this!”

CHAPTER FOUR
    TUESDAY, MAY 5, 7:05 P.M. EDT NEW YORK CITY
    Summer had come early to New York. With the temperature pushing ninety, it had been all Ishaq Mustaf Khan—known by his friends
     as Isaac—could do to keep himself hydrated. Shunning the highly sugared electrolyte drinks preferred by his fellow workers
     on the Eudy & Sons warehouse loading docks, the fifty-three-year-old typically brought a two-liter bottle filled with a homemade
     tea brew that he had grown up on in Pakistan. Usually it did the trick, but not today. Whether it was the unexpected heat
     or just the fact that he was getting older, for the first time he could remember, Isaac struggled to keep up with the younger
     men.
    Finding an unused bay as the next shift came on, he sat down with his legs hanging off the side. It wasn’t like this when I was young, he thought. He absentmindedly tapped the empty two-liter against the edge of the loading bay and let his mind drift back to
     his hometown. Bela was an ancient village set in the middle of a fertile plain surrounded by hills. Isaac had been something
     special there. All the men had respected him for his size and strength. And all the women . . . Isaac’s mouth curved into
     a small smile. Yes, all the women.
    But then came the move. Eighteen years ago he had left his home and his family to come to America. Although he had no desire
     to do it, he still came without a fight. Sometimes Allah’s plans are a little different from our own.
    Since that time he had endured year after year of waiting. Now, as he felt the strength of his body beginning to fade, he
     wondered if his chance for glory would ever come. Or have I simply been forgotten? If I have, so be it. Allah knows. Allah sees.
    “Isaac, there you are!”
    Isaac turned to see Jimmie Holliday coming his way. Jimmie was in his early thirties but had the energy of a teenager. The
     younger man dropped next to Isaac and held out a Gatorade Cool Blue. “Yeah, I know it ain’t that Pakistani potion you’re always
     drinking, but you need something.”
    Isaac reluctantly accepted the plastic bottle, then turned his eyes back toward the ground. “Thanks.”
    “You okay? Don’t mean to be slamming you or nothing, but you were kinda dogging it today.”
    Isaac took a sip of the Gatorade and grimaced at the sweetness. “Don’t ever get old, my friend.”
    “Don’t worry; I don’t plan to.”
    They both sat lost in their own thoughts for a moment. Then, suddenly, someone flipped Jimmie’s “on switch” again, and he
     said, “Hey, me and Hector and a couple other guys are going to catch that new Jackie Chan movie. Wanna come along and see
     some dudes get all chop-a-sockied?” Jimmie’s hands flailed at the air.
    Isaac smiled and