taking ownership of the mission despite his disgust of the objective. “Get a combat tracking team.” Auttenburg smiled. “Touched down fifteen minutes ago. They’re waiting on us.” Tox came to his feet. “Let’s get moving, then.” Because even if he’d rather leave the president in some backwater hole, Tox wouldn’t abandon innocents to the hands of terrorists. **** — JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY, MARYLAND — “Hālip namurrati . . . Kakkē lā mahri.” Tzivia Khalon slid her long, thin fingers along the image of