Kill Alex Cross

immediately. “You need for me to open my files,” she said, to an approving smile. She stepped over to the laptop, where a flashing cursor waited on the blank screen. It took only a moment to still her racing mind. Then the sixteen characters she needed flowed out of her fingers as if by muscle memory: 23EE4XYQ9R21WV0W.
    The screen blinked once, then repopulated itself with a familiar series of icons. Hala scanned through them quickly, making sure everything was as she’d left it — target names, home addresses, public schedules, maps, security contacts.
    “I believe it’s all here,” she said.
    “Very good,” Jiddo said. “And now —”
    Tariq spoke up all at once, in a voice that was oddly grave. “ Hala! ”
    She turned around and saw the other couple standing behind them. The man had his hand out. In his palm were the two cyanide capsules that had been removed from her pocket earlier.
    The woman stayed to the side, covering them with her Sig from the opposite angle.
    “And now,” Jiddo said again, “we must ask for one last act of dedication to The Family.”

HALA STARED AT the old man, understanding everything – and understanding nothing at the same time. The Family was supposed to be smart, wise.
    “You can’t be serious,” she said.
    “I believe you’re familiar with the terms,” he answered. “It is preferred that your deaths be deemed a suicide by the authorities.”
    The words hit Hala like scalding water. And the reversal of it all. She remembered the night at the Harmony Suites Business Hotel, when she’d said virtually the same thing to the other couple. The ones she’d thought were traitors.
    The ones she’d been told were traitors.
    “How can you do this? After all of our service? All we went through?” she said.
    Jiddo was unperturbed. “You came to this country prepared to die at any time, isn’t that so?”
    “ For the cause! ” Hala spat back. “Not for this! Not for The Family’s convenience.”
    “And how exactly are those different?” he asked. “Please make the right choice. If I’m not mistaken, there are … two little ones at home? Is that correct?”
    “You wouldn’t!” she said. But of course, she knew that they would.
    “Hala.” Tariq was there now, and as he spoke, there was more clarity in his voice than she’d heard in days. Maybe ever. “We have to, Hala. Fahd and Aamina will be taken care of. Your parents —”
    “This can’t be happening!” she said.
    “I won’t warn you again,” Jiddo told them.
    Like something out of a waking nightmare, she watched as Tariq reached over and took the capsules from the other man. He pressed one into her shaking palm and closed her fingers around it. Then he kissed her, unapologetically. There were tears in his eyes, but love as well. So much love.
    “We’ll see each other again,” he said.
    “Tariq, no!”

BUT IT WAS too late. He shoved the capsule into his mouth and bit down on it. She saw him wince, as the glass cut into his gums. Then the trickle of blood from his lips. Now it was just a matter of time before he was dead. Her Tariq was already dying.
    Hala turned to face the old man. She looked from the suicide pill in her hand back up to his pathetic, wrinkled face. The arrogance in his eyes.
    “There was one thing you said before,” she told him. Her voice broke more than she would have liked, but she pressed on. “One thing, anyway, that was true.”
    “Yes?” Jiddo said solicitously. “And what was that, my child?”
    “I was very well trained,” she said.
    Hala turned all at once and landed a grip on the other woman’s wrist. She snapped it easily with one clean motion. The woman screamed.
    When the gun dropped from her hand, Hala was right there to catch it. Her finger found the trigger, and she shot the woman. Point-blank. In the face. No hesitation.
    There were no idle or slow thoughts now. Only intentions. And fast actions.
    She fired again, into the younger man’s chest as he came at her. Jiddo had started toward the cover of his car, but Hala put a round into the back of his head before he could get there.
    He sprawled onto the hood, sending the laptop flying, then he slid off the Mercedes’s expensive finish to land next to it on the dusty ground. Only a broad paint stroke of red was left behind.
    By the time Hala turned back to Tariq, he’d already sunk to his knees. The convulsions had begun. His head hitched with every attempt at a full breath.
    “Go!” he