Chapter 24

"Well—what do you think?" Quinn stands in front of Ari Rosen and a small team of Mossad leadership, an array of maps and plans spread out before them on the oversized table and on large computer monitors around a conference room in Mossad's headquarters in Tel Aviv. His most trusted CIA lieutenants are scattered around the room.

Ari is silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he studies the screen in front of him. "I think..." he trails off, considering. "I think splitting up your teams isn't going to work. They don't know the terrain."

"You think your men know Tehran better than we do?" Quinn grins, his voice laced with challenge.

Ari meets his gaze evenly. "I think you don't have the connections you need," he replies carefully. "Our sources on the ground won't trust your teams without one of ours."

Quinn raises an eyebrow, exchanging a look with Preston, who nods back at him. Quinn sighs, his tone shifting to a more measured approach. "Okay. But my teams are well-oiled machines, Ari. Introducing a new guy—for a mission like this—raises the risk. More moving parts, more chance of something going wrong."

Ari smiles, the faintest hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "Let's take a break, yes?"

The room clears out, and Ari gestures for Quinn to follow him. They leave Mossad headquarters, walking down the street toward a nearby outdoor café, where the smell of strong Turkish coffee fills the air.

Quinn leans back in his chair, letting the warmth of the sun hit his face. "I've missed this," he says, closing his eyes as he sips the thick, dark liquid. It's been too long since he's had coffee this good.

Ari laughs softly. "It's been too long since you've been here, my friend."

Quinn smiles. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Ari takes another sip of his coffee, his expression turning serious. "You know I'm right about this," he says quietly.

Quinn sighs, his shoulders heavy with the weight of the decision. "The munitions guy—our guy—"

Ari cuts him off. "Can trust Ben," he says firmly. "I'm telling you, your team can rely on him. He's gotten things done with less time and in more stressful circumstances than we're in now."

Quinn chuckles, shaking his head. "More stressful than this? Hard to imagine."

Ari nods, taking another sip of coffee. "Yes, well... Peter, you and I—we've known each other for years. We've worked together, trusted each other. I need you to hear me on this." He locks eyes with Quinn, his voice low and serious. "This is an existential crisis for my people. I have to make decisions that protect Israel. No compromises."

Quinn stares at Ari for a long moment, lost in thought. The weight of their years of collaboration, the stakes of the mission, the tension in his chest—it all presses on him. Finally, he exhales slowly. "I know," he says softly. "I know."

Ari watches him for a beat before leaning back in his chair, the unspoken understanding between them thick in the air. "So...?"

Quinn sets his coffee down, runs a hand over his face, and thinks it through. "We'll do it your way," he finally says, his voice calm but resolute.

Ari nods, his lips curling into a small, appreciative smile. "Thank you. I'll remember this."

Quinn returns the smile, but there's an edge of something else in his expression. "Good," he says. "Because I need you to do something for me."

Ari raises an eyebrow. "Anything."

Quinn leans in slightly, his voice dropping a fraction of a degree. "Can you get me home in time to meet my girlfriend's parents next weekend?"

It's four days later. Quinn and Ari share a toast over glasses of whiskey. Across the room, Prime Minister Bennett regales Dar Adal and a group of CIA and Mossad agents with tales of his adventures leading an elite IDF fighting unit into Jordan, many years ago. Quinn watches, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Dar is in his prime—there's nothing he enjoys more than expensive liquor, hobnobbing with powerful politicians, and exchanging exaggerated tales of spycraft.

But there's good reason to celebrate tonight. Three targets have been confirmed dead, and the joint CIA/Mossad team hasn't lost a single man yet—despite the singular danger of the missions they've undertaken so far.

Quinn knows they still have a long way to go, that his teams are in for many more brutal days ahead. But for now, it's a good start—a great one, actually—for a task that was pulled together on a too-tight timeline, with too many moving pieces to count.

Quinn and Dar briefed Saul and the President earlier, and both of them seemed pleased.

But the real reason Quinn is in a celebratory mood tonight is that Ari kept his word: Quinn is going to make it home in time to meet Lily Taylor's parents this weekend.

And he's pretty sure that, considering how relieved she's going to be, he's practically guaranteed a mind-blowing (and very personal) welcome-home gift.

God, does he need it. Quinn is exhausted and missing Lily like crazy. He's desperate for some stress-relief, preferably in the form of something far more personal than anything his CIA/Mossad colleagues could offer. As long as he makes it back before her parents arrive in DC, he's set.

He knows this trip home will be fleeting. He has a narrow window—maybe a couple of weeks—before he has to return to Tel Aviv to oversee the next stage of the mission. But that reality can wait. For now, he leans back and enjoys the fruits of his successes, the anticipation of being with Lily, and the brief calm before the next storm.