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they were boxed in and didn’t even know it. Tiger Four were taking a hell of a pounding, but over the coms it sounded like the two soldiers were having a stroll in the park.
    “Tiger Four, HQ Actual. Start falling back. Get them outside of the jammer’s range.”
    “Roger that.”
    Steadily the battle rolled farther away from the encampment. The bandits, though now surrounded, thought they were engaging on one side only.
    Anticipating Phillips’s next order, I got on the com to Otanga. “Get your mosquitoes online. The bandit forces will be clearing the jammer radius soon.”
    “Understood,” Otanga responded.
    “Mosquitoes ready to go,” I called to Phillips.
    “Get them up. Tell Otanga’s troops to go for targets with RPGs. They’re the only things that can do my team any harm.” I relayed her instructions to Otanga and watched a dozen new icons blink onto the map and swarm the bandits.
    The rattle of gunfire echoing across the desert intensified as Tiger Four ceased withdrawal and returned fire in earnest. I could hear their voices repeating over and over, “Tango down.” Each time, incap rounds had dropped another bandit on the map.
    The mosquitoes swarmed in, each one landing on a distracted combatant and injecting them with a tranquilizer bite. The few that were left were easily mopped up by Phillips’s and Otanga’s disciplined soldiers.
    ***
    The VTOL touched down near the main building of the encampment, and Phillips, Otanga, and I walked out into the former combat zone. Twenty ugly, nasty-looking men were trussed up in cuffs, most still unconscious. The ones who had been knocked out were all on their sides in a first-aid recovery position. The Australian soldiers were clearly magnanimous souls at heart. The team’s medic was even treating the bandits’ injuries.
    Phillips’s and Otanga’s troops had done their jobs well, only two fatalities. One bandit had been incapacitated as he was about to fire an RPG, and he took out both himself and his partner when he’d fallen to the floor. I didn’t feel any sympathy; he’d made his life, or in this case death, choices.
    The commandos gave none of the high fives or whoops I was half expecting from a successful mission as they watched over their charges. Sergeant Jones approached and nodded at me and Otanga.
    “Ma’am,” he said to Phillips.
    “Good work, Mick. Any unreported injuries?”
    “Thank you, ma’am. Just some cuts and bruises. Rohal is going to need some new armor. That explosion was a little too close to him for comfort, but he’s fine.”
    Phillips nodded and looked over at me. “Well, we’ve bagged and tagged ’em, Layton. It’s up to you now.”
    “Thank you, Captain.” I shook her hand. It was a knuckle crusher. I felt she could break every bone in my hand if she wished—a sign of her advanced combat enhancements.
    She regarded the bullet scar on my chest armor and gave a slight smile. “I’d say we’re on first name terms now. Call me Ava.”
    I nodded back at her. It hadn’t escaped my notice that she was an attractive woman. Maybe if we hadn’t met in some war-torn hellhole…
    “See you at the tribunal, Ava.”

Chapter 5
The Hague
    The War Crimes Investigation offices stood next door to the International Criminal Court on the tenth floor of a dated glass building. It was pleasant enough, although the place desperately needed a makeover, but then, that is the lot of law enforcement offices throughout history—to be consigned to old buildings.
    I walked through the door and was greeted by the bustle of the office. I rubbed my chest. It was still bruised and aching from the shot. As people began to notice me, the room quieted. Giselle looked up from where she stood talking to one of the officers, excused herself, and walked over.
    “Hey,” I said.
    “Layton, welcome back.”
    “Thanks. How’s—”
    “Being taken care of,” Giselle preempted my question. “His family wanted him back in Paris. The coroner