He did it with practiced, quiet movements, ensuring the metal did not clink too loudly.

Every few minutes, he would glance toward the cot where the twins lay.

His expression did not soften, but the tension in his shoulders was different when he looked at them.

It was the look of a man who had found something worth keeping safe.

At exactly midnight, the satellite phone on the table began to vibrate.

It did not ring; Ryker had switched it to silent.

The small green screen lit up, casting a pale square of light onto the ceiling.

Ryker picked it up on the first vibration.

He pressed it to his ear.

“Yes,” Ryker said.

I held my breath, waiting for Marco’s report.

Through the receiver, I could hear the faint sound of rain on a metal roof in Chicago.

“The call was made,” Marco said.

“Did she take the bait?” Ryker asked.

“She did,” Marco said. “And she was not alone when she answered.”

“Who was with her?” Ryker asked.

“Pendleton’s chief of security,” Marco said. “A man named Vance.”

“Her brother,” Ryker said.