Breaking Point

of a standard telephone handset and punched the button and held it up to his ear.
    “Who is this,” Sollis said, “and why do you keep calling?”
    There was a beat of silence, as if the caller was surprised there was someone on the other end.
    A high voice with a slight Hispanic accent said, “Butch, this is Juan Julio Batista.”
    “Who?” Sollis asked.
    “Who is
this
?”
    “Who do you think it is?” Sollis said cautiously.
    “Butch Roberson.”
    “Yeah, right,” Sollis said sarcastically.
    “Let’s not play these games.”
    “Fine, I’ll hang up.”
    “No,” Batista said urgently. “Please stay on the line.”
    “Technically, it isn’t a line,” Sollis said.
    He could hear muffled voices from the other end, as if the caller had placed his hand over the microphone. Sollis found it annoying, and was prepared to turn off the phone and call one of his roofer buddies to come get him, when Batista came back on.
    Batista said, “Can you hear the helicopter coming? It should just about be right above you.”
    Sollis was confused. Then he recalled Butch Roberson’s demands, and smiled a second time. Maybe, he thought, he could get the pilot to take
him
away. Off the mountain, away from everything, maybe far enough the cops couldn’t find him right away.
    He heard the sound in the night sky. It increased quickly in volume. Sollis had never been close to a helicopter in his life, but in the movies a helicopter made a whumping sound when it flew. This sounded more like a flying lawn mower.
    “Stay right where you are so the pilot can see you,” Batista said. “Is there enough clear space where you are for it to land?”
    “I’m not sure,” Sollis said, looking around at the small meadow.
    “Stay where you are.”
    “I am. I can hear it coming, but I can’t see anything.”
    “It’s coming, believe me. Look up,” Batista said.
    There was more muffled talking in the background.
    Sollis did, and saw a dark cigar shape hovering over the eastern wall of trees. There were no lights on it, and he could see it only because it blocked out a line of stars. It didn’t move but stayed in one place, which didn’t seem natural.
    “That doesn’t look like a helicopter to me,” Sollis said, as a red ball of flame appeared from underneath the unmanned drone.
    He heard the
whoosh
coming straight at him.
    And he never heard anything else.

27
    JOE PICKETT’S EYES SHOT OPEN AT THE SOUND OF A sharp concussion. Instinctively thinking
thunder
, he expected the night sky to be filled with storm clouds, but it was still clear, the stars sharp and endless.
    Then, like a distant thunderclap, the echo of the explosion rolled through the mountains. He sat up and rubbed his face, and noticed other bodies were stirring in the moonlight, disturbed by the sound. But no one else seemed awake.
    At that moment, Underwood’s satellite phone went off and Joe got a sick feeling in his stomach.
    Grunting himself awake and patting around in his blanket for the phone, Underwood sat up.
    Joe was close enough that he heard Batista’s triumphant voice say,
“We got him.”
    Joe closed his eyes. He thought of Pam and Hannah Roberson, hoped they were sleeping, and hoped they’d be spared the news as long as possible, because their lives had just been changed forever.
    —
    T HE TEAM OF SPECIAL AGENTS grumbled and thrashed as Underwood walked among them, nudging them with his boot to get up and get ready. Joe had already stowed his sleeping bag and pad in his saddlebags and was carrying his saddle toward Toby when Underwood said to his men, “Listen up, guys. I just talked to Director Batista. He said they located Butch Roberson west of us with the military drone and they fired a Hellfire missile and took the bastard out.”
    Joe paused to hear the rest, and saw the faces of the team turn to Underwood. One of them said, “Holy Christ—a Hellfire missile?”
    “Our drone used night-vision technology to pinpoint Roberson and transmit the video back to the FOB,” Underwood said. “He was standing in the middle of a small clearing, talking to Director Batista on the satellite phone. He didn’t have the hostages with him and he was in the clear, so the determination was made right then to fire.”
    “Is he dead?” one of the agents asked.
    “Deader than dead,” Underwood said. “With no collateral damage we know of. Director Batista is concerned Roberson might have killed his hostages before he was located, but our job