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see you do the same.”
    As King held his belt in one hand and tiptoed a final step toward Mundie and Blake at the computers, he marveled at Blake’s toughness. But then Blake was so tough he had not given answers to a man with a lit cigarette. That’s why Blake had so many of those circular scars on his arms.
    â€œToday’s code phrase,” Mundie said, “is that—”
    King didn’t let Mundie finish. He flipped the belt loop over Mundie’s head and yanked the noose tight. He pulled hard, staggering Mundie backward.
    â€œPillowcase,” King said to MJ as Mundie clawed at his own neck to relieve the pressure. “Shake it loose so you can put it over his head!”
    To Blake, King said, “Your belt. Around his ankles.”
    King gave a violent tug on the end of his belt and toppled Mundie, rolling him onto his stomach. King jumped on the man’s back, still pulling the belt as if it were a choke chain.
    Mundie kicked as hard as he could but was helpless to roll onto his back.
    â€œHurry, MJ,” King said. “Pillowcase.”
    King had learned that MJ was a klutz in all situations except when it really mattered, and then MJ had a steel that seemed impossible for a gangly kid who always tried so hard to act cool that he looked just the opposite.
    MJ had the pillowcase over Mundie’s head in seconds.
    â€œSit on his legs,” Blake grunted to MJ. “He’s kicking too hard.”
    With MJ’s help, Blake managed to tighten his own belt around Mundie’s ankles. Then they fought Mundie’s arms and managed to tie them behind his back with shoelaces.
    Only then did King relieve the pressure of his belt around Mundie’s neck. He remembered when a real choke chain had been put around his neck and how close he’d come to dying.
    â€œYou guys are making a huge mistake,” Mundie said. “And trust me, you and Evans are going to pay for this. I’m calling this operation over.”
    â€œI’ve got to go with him on the huge mistake part,” MJ said to King. “You sure about all this?”
    â€œCode phrase,” Blake repeated. “If he gives us the code phrase, we’ll let him go. No harm, right?”
    Silence from beneath the pillowcase.
    â€œSatisfied we did the right thing?” Blake asked MJ.
    â€œBut we just jumped a CIA agent,” MJ said.
    â€œCall Evans,” King told MJ. “Ask him if he sent Mundie.”
    King began to feel the panic attack return. This time, however, he didn’t hide his efforts to pull in lungfuls of air.
    â€œHold on,” Blake said, looking past them at the computer screens. “Check out the drones on monitor one.”

CHAPTER 7
    King leaned over Mundie and spoke quietly. “Man, I’d hate to do this to you, because MJ only changes his socks twice a week, but if you start yelling, we’re going to shove them in your mouth.”
    â€œHey,” MJ said. “I change them—”
    King made a cutting motion across his throat. Not the time to mention that he’d brought a box with clean socks and underwear from Mrs. Johnson.
    â€œOh,” MJ mouthed, suddenly realizing Mundie needed to think MJ had smelly socks.
    â€œWe’re good?” King asked Mundie.
    â€œGood,” he said in a quiet voice. “But I’m calling in for help. This operation is over.”
    King thought it was weird for Mundie to repeat this, but events were flashing too quickly for him to give it more consideration.
    â€œNo phone for you then,” MJ said to Mundie as King moved past MJ to look at monitor one. “Not that you’d be able to dial anyway.”
    MJ was the only person to laugh.
    King took in the monitor view to see the roof of a mobile home with a rickety fence and an old truck parked on a driveway. DarkSUVs were parked in front, and a dozen members of a SWAT team were moving into position around the perimeter of the mobile