Chapter 21
The hum of Langley is different now—more measured, more deliberate. Even amidst the chaos of a new administration settling in, there is a subtle air of acknowledged authority. Saul, Dar, and Quinn, in their hard-earned new roles, are taking the reins of a new chapter. But that doesn't mean things are quiet. The situation unfolding in Israel is anything but.
Quinn sits on one side of a long conference table, the blueprints of a target city sprawled before him. He barely notices the team filing in. The door clicks shut behind Saul and Dar.
"Peter," Saul greets him, his voice as level as always, though tinged with a trace of weariness that seems to follow him these days. He glances at the map sprawled across the table in front of Quinn. "We're running out of time."
"I know," Quinn mutters, rubbing a hand over his face, his exhaustion visible despite his attempts to maintain focus. He's just wrapped a series of calls with his team in the field, and the scope of what's coming is beginning to settle like a weight on his chest.
He rises and nods to the man who's now seated at the head of the table. "Pull it up, Preston."
The man opens a laptop, hits a few keystrokes, and a map—identical to the one Quinn had been studying—appears on the massive screen at the front of the room. Twelve heads swivel in unison, scrutinizing it.
Peter steps up and stands in front of the screen. "Hamas to the south, Hezbollah to the north. The northern border's been cleared, the IDF's uncovered tunnels just across the border here; Hamas tunnels from Egypt—here—are sealed, but Jordan's still in question. Nasser and Attah are almost certainly in this region," Quinn gestures to a spot east of Tehran.
Quinn steps back, looking to the group. His voice is steady but edged with urgency. "Mossad's calling in every favor we've ever owed them."
Dar, standing by the wall with his arms crossed, scowls. The tension is thick. This isn't just another operation—it's a powder keg with a fuse already burning. Quinn meets Dar's eyes, and they exchange a meaningful look. They both know it.
"Mossad's already making their moves," Saul says slowly. "What do they want from us?"
"Intelligence—which we can supply from here; and tactical teams, which… we can't," Quinn answers, his eyes fixed on the map.
"Hold on," Dar interrupts, his voice sharp. "They want our guys on the ground running missions?"
"Some of these guys have been on our most-wanted list for twenty years," Quinn points out, tapping the map. "Attah, for one."
Saul sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. "That's a big ask."
"Yeah," Quinn agrees. "But it's doable."
Saul turns to Dar, seeking his input. Dar's eyes flick back and forth between Quinn and the map, then settles on Saul. He gives a slight nod.
"How many teams are we talking about?" Saul asks, returning his attention to Quinn.
Quinn gestures to Preston, who clears his throat and pulls up another document. "Sir, we think we can pull two ops teams from Aleppo and bring in a third from Istanbul. We'd need another two or three teams for support. One team would be stationed in Jerusalem, three in Tel Aviv, and two in Ramat Gan. They'd liaise directly with Mossad leadership and have standing approval to take out targets upon confirmed ID."
"And the targets in Iran?" Dar asks, his eyes narrowing as they land back on Quinn's map.
"We'll be in contact with the teams on the ground," Quinn replies quickly. "But yeah, they'll have to cross the border. Potentially several borders," he adds, his voice quiet.
"And you'll be on the ground overseeing this potential diplomatic catastrophe?" Saul raises an eyebrow, his tone a mix of caution and amusement.
Quinn swallows, his gut twisting. It's been all of nine weeks since he's been back from Berlin. Lily is going to love this. "I was thinking I'd go help set up operations, get the teams in place, and then direct things from back here." He looks to Dar, who meets his eyes and nods in agreement.
Saul frowns. "Who's leading for Mossad?"
"Ari Rosen," Quinn replies.
"Don't leave before you've discussed the Iran sensitivity with him," Dar says sharply. "Rosen thinks Attah is in Iran?"
"Yes."
"How long do we have to get our guys into place?" Saul narrows his eyes, his mind already moving ahead.
Quinn's stomach tightens. "A week at most. We need to move fast. This thing is already bigger than anyone's letting on. We're talking about a proxy war here, and if we don't work with Mossad to take out these assets, we're going to lose control."
Dar's voice is low but commanding. "If we don't hit them fast enough, the collateral damage could be catastrophic. We can't afford to hesitate, Saul."
Saul nods, his expression grim as he absorbs the weight of the situation. He steps toward the door, then turns back to look at Quinn one last time. "Okay. You have my approval." His gaze lingers for a moment before he adds, almost as an afterthought: "Quinn—no loose ends."
The words land with finality. Quinn watches Saul exit, the door clicking softly shut behind him. The room is eerily quiet, save for the soft hum of the overhead lights.
Quinn stares at the map for a long moment. This isn't just another mission. It isn't even just about taking out high-value targets. It's about controlling a rapidly escalating situation—and knowing that one wrong move could lead to catastrophic consequences. The weight of that responsibility presses down on him as he straightens his shoulders and takes one final look at the map. He knows what needs to be done. Now, it's just a matter of executing it.