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Hamid Zakiri asked, speaking up for the first time. Heads swiveled to where the Iraqi agent stood a few feet away, calmly sipping a Pepsi. At five-nine, Zakiri was far from the tallest team member, but he was light and fast. Back in his Army days, he’d set records on the Ranger’s “Q Course”.
    “Yes,” Harry replied, in answer to his old friend’s question. Alpha Team as a whole hadn’t officially been mission-ready in over a year, with one or another of its members deployed separately. His own mission south of the border had only been the latest in a string.
    “Almost like old times,” Hamid smiled, white teeth showing against his deeply tanned skin. “All that’s left to do is get Sammy back.”
    Harry nodded. The departure of Samuel Han after the Azeri mission had left a hole in the teams, a hole they hadn’t permanently filled even these years later. No one could fault him, though. After the losses that winter, he quite simply hadn’t been able to take it anymore. Leaving the Agency forever behind him, he had retreated into the mountains of West Virginia. Rumor had it that he’d become something of a hermit. The stresses of combat did that to people. The loss of friends…
    Davood Sarami had been studying the map on the far wall. When he turned back, his tanned face was strangely pale.
    “What is it, Davood?” Kranemeyer asked, noting his odd expression.
    “Where were these—these archaeologists working? What was it that they were excavating?”
    “Does it matter?”
    Davood nodded quietly. “It may. It may very much.”
    “Ron?”
    The analyst turned back to his computer and hit a couple of keys. “Just a moment…let’s see.” He looked up. “The ruins of Rhodaspes. An ancient Persian trade city.”
    “ Ya Allah ,” the Iranian whispered. Oh, God.
    “What’s wrong?” Harry asked, watching the man closely. There was something going on here. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew he didn’t like it…
    “Do you know the area?”
    Davood looked up, glancing first at the DCS and then at Harry. “No,” he said, answering Kranemeyer’s question first, “I don’t know the area. My parents were born a hundred kilometers away. But Rhodaspes…”
    “What about it?”
    “The Iranians, they call it the place of the jinn. The city of spirits…”
     
    11:49 P.M. Tehran Time
    The campsite
     
    Back and forth, the guard paced across the camp, his sweaty hands firmly grasping his Kalishnikov assault rifle, his eyes peering nervously into the darkness.
    A cool night breeze came sweeping over the plateau, startling him. There was something evil about this place. He knew it. He could feel it in the very air.
    It was too silent. Nothing, not even the night sounds of animals to break the stillness. Not even the birds came to this place, or so it seemed.
    He glanced back at the trailers behind him. What they were used for, he had no idea. And he didn’t really want to know. For there was evil there too. Evil in the hearts of men, as dark as the night surrounding him.
    He turned and began his patrol back, his AK-47 still held at the ready, its barrel probing the night ahead of him. It was the only power he still held over this place.
    He felt a cough coming and he brought his hand up to cover his mouth.
    The cough seemed to tear at his throat and when he pulled his hand away, it was covered with blood.
    He dropped the assault rifle in panic and began to run, running toward the light of the camp, running toward the trailers. Running and knowing he might be too late. Knowing that the evil had already overtaken him…
     
    2:51 P.M. Eastern Time
    NCS Operations Center
    Langley, Virginia
     
    “Spirits?”
    Davood nodded, a flush growing across his face. “It sounds stupid, I know. But my ancestors believed it.”
    “That’s not to the point, Davood,” Director Lay interjected. “Do you believe that it’s true?”
    There was a moment of dead silence. “Well?”
    “I don’t know.” He