Saved by an unexpected communiqué. Not wanting to alarm Cassandra, he kept his smile in place.
“Well, hand-holding and answering the phone. Or radio, in this case,” he said, walking over to see what was there.
His expression didn’t change as he read the intel.
The compound belonged to one Victor Luboski. The son of a known terrorist with Syrian ties, Luboski was trying to make a name for himself apart from his father.
Well trained in defensive measures, he had an underground hideout. The team had confirmed that there was only one way in or out, and had it covered. But short of blowing his lair up around him, they were forced to lay siege and wait. No action would be taken until new orders were issued, at least twelve hours from now.
He tapped a few keys to signal that the message was
