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vessels, planes, tanks, pretty much any kind of vehicle. On the furthest end of the spectrum, well, you read the details. The implications are potentially very dangerous."
    "I'd say all of it is dangerous, Admiral."
    McClain didn't disagree, but merely nodded. "How would you like us to proceed, Mr. President? I can have a SEAL team on it within the next six hours."
    Dawkins shook his head. "No offence, Admiral, but we don't even know where to send a SEAL team right now. These animals could be hiding anywhere, and we don't have the foggiest idea of where to start."
    "Then what will we do? Sit around and wait until they send us footage of cutting the poor girl's head off?"
    "No," Dawkins said, his tone grave. "No, we won't be doing that. As soon as I got wind of this and saw the video of Dr. Ott in a basement with her hands tied behind her back, I made a phone call."
    A brief second of concern crossed Admiral McClain's face. "You made a call? CIA?"
    "I decided to leave Langley out of this one, Admiral."
    "But certainly they know about the video and the kidnapping."
    The president shrugged and crossed one leg over the other knee. "Of course they do. Heck, the entire world knows about it thanks to the Internet. I'll let Langley do what they do. But I've got another asset in play that could well reap faster results than the big machine that is the CIA."
    McClain looked pensive for a moment as he considered what the president was saying. Another asset? What other assets did he have? FBI didn't get involved with things of this nature unless it was in the country. NSA? Surely not. He'd heard rumors about other, higher security special operations units working for the government, but most of what he'd heard was the stuff of urban legend.
    One name did continue to pop up. "Called in an Axis agent, eh?"
    The president's face remained stoic, as if he'd just bet all his chips in a high stakes poker game.
    "This isn't a covert hit, Mr. President. We need someone to be able to track down these people and get that young woman out alive. The SEALs are just as good at that as anyone."
    "Almost anyone,” Dawkins corrected. “If our asset needs backup, he'll let us know, and then you can send in your SEAL team."
    It was nearly an insult, but the president meant nothing by it. The admiral doubted the faith his leader put in one agent, led by what he considered to be a shadowy special ops organization. His place wasn't to question the president, though, and he nodded his approval.
    "If that is what you believe is the best course of action to take, sir, I am fully behind you."
    "Good," Dawkins said and stood up. He extended a hand as McClain also stood, and the men shook briefly. "As always, Admiral, I'll keep you in the loop with any progress that's made."
    "Thank you, sir," he said appreciatively.
    The admiral showed himself to the door and exited the Oval Office, into a room awash with clerical workers pecking away at keyboards, and other people hurrying about in a dozen different directions.
    A Secret Service agent standing outside the door gave a curt nod to the admiral, who returned the gesture before stalking out of the office and through the main corridor toward the front of the building. He took a left at the main foyer and followed the hallway out to one of the side exits and proceeded outside to one of the security stations.
    The Secret Service detail allowed him through in quick fashion, one of the perks of being an adviser to the president. He circled around to the private parking area, got into a black Lincoln Town Car, and turned on the ignition.
    He felt his phone vibrate in his pants pocket and retrieved it to see who had messaged him. The number was unidentified, but he knew who it was. There was only a question mark on the screen.
    He tapped away at the keys for a few seconds and then sent his two-word response.
    Sit tight.

4
    Frankfurt, Germany
     
    Sean strolled out of the Frankfurt International Airport, weary from his