Avi glanced at the luminous dial on his watch – 1:12 a.m. Time to move. He turned slightly toward Ray, gave a sharp nod, then raised his right arm to signal Simeon.

Simeon placed his binoculars on the window ledge and picked up the L42A1 sniper rifle—a precision conversion of the legendary .303 Lee-Enfield. He slid the heavy barrel through a gap in the broken windowpane, resting it steadily on the frame. The scope had already been calibrated for the short-range target ahead. At this distance, there was no need to account for wind, humidity, or even air pressure.

He was trained for this.

He inhaled slowly, held his breath, and squeezed the trigger.

The suppressed shot cracked into the silence. The 7.62mm round tore through the sentry’s throat, punching out through the back of his neck and embedding itself in the concrete wall. The man dropped like a sack, lifeless, before he hit the ground.

The other guard turned at the faint noise, confusion frozen on his face. Simeon calmly worked the bolt, reloaded, and fired again. The second bullet caught him square in the chest, pitching him backwards. He slammed against the wall, then crumpled.

Avi, Ray, and Dalfon moved instantly. Avi checked the carotid of the first guard; Ray confirmed the second. Both dead. Avi glanced toward the gully, then eased down the gate’s handle. It swung open silently.

The three men slipped inside, pistols drawn, safeties off.

They crossed the courtyard without a word, every step controlled. Gila remained at the gate, scanning the compound’s interior from cover. Avi pressed an ear to the thick wooden front door. Hearing nothing, he gave a thumbs-up and slowly opened it. Ray and Dalfon followed, sweeping the open-plan lounge with trained focus.

Snoring.

Avi and Ray had agreed not to use night-vision goggles—too risky. A sudden light or glint could give away their position. Instead, Ray closed his eyes for a few seconds to sharpen his night vision. Slivers of moonlight streamed through cracks in the crumbling walls, just enough to navigate.

Ray tapped Avi’s shoulder, and the pair moved toward the staircase.

Two muffled pops sounded behind them.

Dalfon. The snoring had stopped—for good.

The concrete stairs made no sound. At the landing, Ray paused. Five doors. The target was likely the rear left—closed and probably locked. The others were ajar or glowed faintly from within.

Ray motioned for Avi to hold position and crept toward the locked door. He tried the handle. No give. He tapped his chest and pointed to the room with light spilling beneath the frame. Avi nodded, gestured to Dalfon, and the men took position.

Ray pushed the door open gently. Inside, a man lay on a narrow metal-framed bed, back to the door.

Ray approached and tapped the sleeper on the shoulder with the pistol. The man groaned, rolled over, and froze. His eyes locked on the barrel pointed between them.

“Up you get,” Ray said in clipped Arabic.

The man’s gaze flicked to the Kalashnikov leaning against the wall beside the bed, then back to Ray. Contempt flashed across his face. Ray responded with a sharp crack across the jaw with the Browning’s barrel. The man grunted, blood seeping from a split lip.

Avi entered.

“I’m assuming this one’s in charge,” Ray said quietly.

“The others are done. Let me talk to him. You see to the kid,” Avi replied.

“Where’s the key?” Ray demanded.

The man raised trembling hands and reached into his trouser pocket. Ray took the key and left without another word. Avi remained—interrogation was his department.

Ray found Dalfon at the locked door, walkie-talkie in hand, checking in with Terach. Ray unlocked it and pushed it open.

Ariel Brachfield sat frozen on the bed, eyes wide and brimming. He looked thin, pale, and stunned—an echo of the teenager he once was.

Ray knelt slightly, softened his voice.

“Don’t be alarmed. I’m Ray Kazan. We’re here to take you home.”

Ariel gave a small nod, chest shuddering with a silent breath. Ray placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and guided him gently from the room.

Behind them, a sudden cry rang out. Ariel flinched.

Ray didn’t.

Avi had begun the interview.

At the gate, Gila, Rani, and Dalfon stood ready. Avi joined them moments later, adjusting his cuffs.

“I have a name,” he said with grim satisfaction.