The word “mostly” had barely left Sienna’s mouth when the driverless car began racing downhill.
One of the attackers was still clinging to its hood.
Sienna dropped her phone, sprinted after the car and grabbed the open driver’s door. She pulled herself inside, fought the steering wheel and slammed the emergency brake. The car stopped inches before entering a crowded intersection.
Then an explosion shook the street.
The coffee shop windows burst outward, sending glass and black smoke across the sidewalk. The table where Sienna had been sitting less than a minute earlier disappeared behind the flames.
The bearded man who had stolen her bag slowly raised his hands.
“If I hadn’t taken it,” he said, “you would still be sitting beside that window.”
His name was Cole Mercer, a former intelligence operative who had intercepted an encrypted message containing Sienna’s photograph, location and exact coffee order. Snatching her bag had been the fastest way to move her away without alerting whoever was watching.
The other two men were not working with him.
They had been sent to finish the job after Cole interfered.
Inside her recovered handbag, Sienna discovered a surveillance photograph of herself sitting in the coffee shop. A thick red X covered her face. Beside it was an FBI access card bearing the identification number of her supervisor, Deputy Director Hale.
Her phone rang again.
Hale’s name appeared on the screen.
“Bring Mercer to the underground garage,” the familiar voice ordered. “Come alone.”
Cole stared at the caller’s name and went pale.
“That isn’t Hale,” he whispered. “Hale died three years ago. I watched them bury him.”
Sienna put the call on speaker.
For several seconds, there was only silence. Then the voice asked one chilling question:
“Did he tell you what happened in Vienna?”
The call ended.
Cole tore the cardboard sleeve from Sienna’s coffee cup. Hidden beneath it was a tiny tracking device, still blinking. Whoever had handed her the coffee had known exactly where she would stand when the bomb exploded.
Across the street, a black SUV quietly pulled away. An official FBI parking permit was visible behind its windshield.
Sienna finally understood.
The bag had never been the target. Neither had the coffee shop.
The entire attack had been designed to expose the person willing to save her.
The man she had believed was a thief had risked his life to keep her alive.
And someone inside the FBI had just ordered them both to disappear.
