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shrouded in lies. Lies he ’ d convinced himself were necessary. In the end , though , he couldn ’ t serve the cult that raised him and his country at the same time.
    And his country had suffered for it. Worse , Rebecca had suffered for it. Brandt had suffered the most.
    Not this time. The man clinging to a rope going a hundred miles an hour was the real Davidson. Free of the Knot, he could truly be committed to his cause. To make up for every death he ’ d caused while under cover. And there had been many. Too many.
    He pushed aside the sight of that jet in France. While he hadn ’ t pulled the trigger , those deaths were on his shoulders as surely as the terrorist who launched the RPG. God would decide his punishment for wandering from His way.
    In this life , Davidson could do only one thing to make amends. And that was to take out the bad guys.
    Luckily , it looked like there was six of them right ahead trying to outrace a helicopter. Given that he was the lowest on the ropes, Davidson ’ s feet skimmed the tall , bright grass , so he had the opportunity to be at bike level. The guy on the motorcycle genuinely looked surprised when Davidson flung himself from the rope and knocked into him. An elbow to the jaw and the guy was off the bike.
    It took both hands on the handlebars to stabilize the motorcycle before it pitched over. However , Davidison didn ’ t take the bike much f a rther. He ’ d just preferred to stop the bike on his own rather than plowing into the ground.
    Instead , Davidson braked hard as he slung his rifle off his shoulder. The other bikes were so close it was almost too easy. Like target practice. After the day they ’ d had? Davidson would take it. His first shot took out the back tire of the nearest motorcycle. It tilted over into the high grass. The next shot hit the third biker in the back. Not checking to see what happened to that bike, Davidson aimed at the fourth and hit the gas tank. His next shot set it on fire. Before he set up the shot, the fifth terrorist stopped his bike, his hands high up in the air.
    Davidson looked up to Brandt , still on his rope. His question for the sergeant clear. Take the shot or not?
    * * *
    Brandt shook his head. The guy had surrendered. He was a sleazy terrorist, but he ’ d given himself up. Sirens sounded from across the field as n aval MPs finally caught up with the action.
    Given that Davidson had single-handedly taken down the terrorist cell, Brandt gave the private a nod toward the rope. Normally , Brandt would have felt slightly cheated that someone else had had all the action, but with his wedding sixteen minutes away? Today he could have laid a lip - lock on Davidson.
    Feeling competent that the slew of MPs heading their way could take care of the cleanup, Brandt gave the signal for the chopper to pull them up.
    As their lines zipped upward toward the helicopter, Brandt glanced to the inferno that used to be a train car. All those explosives had been meant for elementary school children visiting the Smithsonian Museum on a field trip. It felt pretty damned good to see that hailstorm of pain and anguish burning benignly in a meadow.
    However , today wouldn ’ t be a complete win, not if he missed his own nuptials.
    Shrugging off the help of one of the airmen in the helo, Brandt climbed onto the deck of the chopper. Of course , Lopez went forward to the pilot ’ s seat. And of course , the a ir f orce pilot refused to give him the stick. Normally , Brandt would have sided with the guy who brought the helicopter to the party . H owever , today wasn ’ t normal.
    “ Lopez will be flying, ” Brandt added.
    “ Sir, this is an a ir f orce vehicle, ” the pilot shot back. “ And no one but a — ”
    Davidson pulled out a piece of paper from his flak jacket and handed it to the copilot. The man quickly scanned it. When he looked up , he seemed confused. “ It is a letter of suspension of p osse c omitatus for the team. ”
    The pilot ’ s