Chapter 1

On a windy Friday morning, Kestrel was striding in the alley of the cemetary he knew so well. He had put on a thick duffel coat to protect himself against the falling snow flakes, not deterred by the freezing temperature. He had come back in the USA only the day before, and had slept fourteen hours out of sheer exhaustion. The last mission with Fourth Echelon had been a very difficult one, and had kept them two months in the Middle East. But now he was back, and the first thing he wanted to do after sleeping was visit the grave of the woman he still deeply loved. Even if she had been dead for nearly two years, his feelings were still strong. But the pain and grief had almost completely faded, and he felt a lot better. He had ceased to see his psychologist, not dived back into alcohol and done his new job inside Fourth Echelon well enough to gain everyone's trust.

Light-hearted, he was walking towards the grave when a shout stopped him in his tracks. Turning round, he saw the elder graveyard keeper running in his direction. He watched him coming close to him, panting, and asked politely:

_ Hi! Do you want to talk to me?

_ Indeed, the old man said, winded. I don't know how to say this, though.

He was grimacing, wringing his hands, looking haggard.

_ You see, I don't know your name, so I couldn't tell you...

_ Tell me what? Kestrel cut, dread twisting his guts.

_ I know you often come to see a particular grave, and I wish I could have warned you as soon as it happened...

_ Please, get to the point! Kestrel snapped, panic rising inwardly.

_ The grave has been vandalized four nights ago, the keeper said, fear and disgust in his voice. The body and coffin have been dug out and taken away.

_ What do you mean, away?

_ Stolen, he said, trembling. They disappeared. I'm sorry.

Kestrel's mind was numb from shock and disbelief. Alpha's body, stolen? Why? By whom? He tried to keep calm, but anger and panic were rising at alarming speed in him.

_ Didn't you notice the men doing it?

_ I was at my daughter's place, that night, the keeper stuttered, clearly afraid of Kestrel's loud voice. It was as if they knew I'd be away on that night. It was Christmas eve, you see.

Kestrel couldn't believe it. He had to see for himself. So he strode towards the tombstone, timidly followed by the old keeper. And soon he saw the yellow tape around the empty grave, the broken tombstone, and his guts filled with lead. Alpha had been the love of his life, and he had lost her in the intense fight against Meggido. And now, as if she being dead wasn't enough, some bloody bastards had stolen her body.

Rage and despair erupted in him, but he kept it inwardly. He inhaled deeply, then asked the old man:

_ Who's in charge of the investigation?

_ A FBI lieutenant, Blunt is his name.

_ Blunt, okay. Thank you for telling me.

_ I'm sorry, the old keeper repeated.

Kestrel turned his back on him and left, only one thing in mind: tell his team. Grim and Sam would help him. He had his smartphone in his pocket, but he couldn't call them, he didn't trust his nerves. He'd probably lose control and start wrecking the cemetary in his state. So he went to his new car, a blue pick-up he had chosen three months ago, and took the road to Grim and Sam's place, an hour's drive away. It was 8 am.

When the alarm clock woke him at 8.30, Sam was soundly sleeping, Grim on his shoulder. They had collapsed on the bed as soon as they had arrived, and only managed to kiss goodnight before the sandman passed above them. He groaned and slapped the clock, dimly wondering why the bloody thing had been set on. But then he remembered that Grim had wanted to go shopping in the morning, as the fridge and cupboards were mostly empty. She mumbled a little and turned her head, but stayed asleep on his shoulder. He watched her for long and blissful minutes, happiness and love in his heart. He was lucky having her at his side, and working with her in Fourth Echelon. Kestrel was living proof that he ought to enjoy life with her, as they never knew what could happen.

He gently pushed her away from him and started to rise, sitting on the edge of the bed. His head was spinning a little, but he knew it was from the jetlag and tension of the last mission. He had stressed much over it, even if it was a success. Kestrel was a really good ops, and Briggs had done well too. Only Charlie had been often distracted because of his date, and Grim had often had to tell him off. Shaking his head, he grabbed some cargo pants and a T-shirt, put them on and went downstairs to prepare a strong and hot coffee. He was halfway through the kitchen when he heard a loud and urgent knock on the door.

_ Who the hell is it? he wondered aloud.

The postman came around 7 am, and usually nobody else came there. Few people knew Grim and he had their home in the country around Baltimore, except the Fourth Echelon team. Grimacing and sensing trouble, he went to the wooden door and opened it. On the threshold stood Kestrel, looking devastated and furious.

_ Kestrel? Sam was astonished to see him, and in this state. What happened? Are you all right?

_ Can I come in?

_ Of course.

Sam sidestepped and Kestrel went in, taking off his snowy duffel coat. Sam closed the door and marched to the kitchen, followed by his ops. They took opposite chairs, and Kestrel collapsed on his, rubbing his face. Sam switched on the coffee machine and sat more calmly, but dreading the news. He had seen Kestrel lose control twice before, and was not eager to see that again. But the ops was really shaken, and it was not good news.

_ So, tell me, Sam said gently. What happened?

_ They took... they took...

Kestrel snapped, and he started to sob. Startled, Sam watched him apprehensively. Kestrel had mostly recovered from Alpha's death and was usually as calm and poker-faced as ever, but at that instant he was completely breaking down, just like when he had learned that Alpha had died in Fort Meade. Grim entered the kitchen at that moment, and looked astonished to see Kestrel weeping at their table, hands over his face.

_ Kestrel? she asked, looking concerned. What's the matter?

_ They took Alpha's body, he stammered between huge sobs. They stole her body and vandalized her grave.

_ What? she shouted, revolted. Who? When?

_ On Christmas eve, he said, breathing deeply and trying to regain composure. But I don't know who did it or why.

Sam felt a feeling of dread settle on his stomach, but also a blinding rage rise in his chest. Now he understood why Kestrel was in their kitchen and in his state. The poor guy had lost the woman he loved, and now her body had been stolen, the only thing he had to keep moving on. He said:

_ We'll find her, don't worry. Is there an investigation?

_ Yes, Kestrel nodded, wiping away his tears. A lieutenant Blunt from the FBI's in charge.

_ Okay, he said. Then I'll...

The phone in the kitchen rang at that moment, and Grim went to answer it. It was Fourth Echelon's line, and nothing good could come out of it.

_ Grim, the woman said.

She listened for a few seconds, then switched on the loudspeaker while sitting at the table and told Sam and Kestrel:

_ It's Briggs. He has bad news.

_ Already know them, Sam grumbled.

_ Hi, said Briggs. I have very bad news. Sarto's escaped from his prison in Texas last night. He disappeared, and the local agencies suspect he has been flown away from the US by some loyal Meggido lesser members.

Silence answered him. Sam was flabbergasted, and he felt anger rise in him to boiling point. He stood up and hurried down the hall to his working office equipped with a punch bag. He punched it repeatedly, not wanting to let the steam out on Grim's trinkets again. He saw Grim enter the room, Kestrel behind her, but he kept hitting the bag until he was breathing heavily. Then he turned to face them. Grim had tight features, but she looked determined. Kestrel was poker-faced again, but his eyes shone with a spark Sam recognized only too weel. Kestrel wanted blood, and so did he.

_ Right, he said, a harsh metallic edge in his rumbling voice. Grim, call the President. I'll call Briggs and Charlie. Meeting at the Paladin in three hours. We have a son of a bitch to track down and the body of a dear friend to find.

Grim and Kestrel nodded grimly. The hounding had begun.

Hi everyone! I just couldn't stop my previous story, so I decided to continue the writing, and it came naturally! Hope you enjoy it, and please tell me if it's worth continuing!