CHAPTER EIGHT
Nathan’s phone rang.
“Thomas,” he snapped.
“Max here. Got a match on the prints—I was right. Metzger is Werner. And there’s something else. ME says no way it was suicide. He estimates Adolf was shot from about two feet. He was murdered, somewhere else, then staged out in the desert.”
“Good info, Max. Hey, we have stuff happening here. Let me let you go. I’ll call you back.”
And he hung up the phone just as his radio crackled to life.
“Tango to Delta.”
“Go Tango.”
“At entry point window. Have observed four, that’s zero-four individuals, crossing the main hall. Three are hostile, one is a friendly, over.”
“Do you have a position, Tango?”
“Two hostiles remaining in hallway. I don’t see any weapons. Third hostile matching suspect’s description went with the friendly int
