Friday, September 16, 12:30 p.m. EDT

“Hey, Riley,” one of the line cops said as Riley passed him.

“How’s it going?” Riley stopped briefly to shake the man’s hand.

“Riley, what’s up?” Riley fist-bumped another cop a few more yards down the security line.

“Riley, way to stick it to Bellefeuille,” called out a longhaired law enforcement agent who had US Marshal written all over him.

“Thanks, buddy,” Riley said.

All the greetings and encouragement from the cops was nice. I guess once you’re behind the lines, they just assume you’re supposed to be here. And having Skeeter at my shoulder definitely helps cut down on the challenges.

But as nice as this is, this isn’t what I need. I need some quiet, some solitude, so I can process things through. An idea struck him.

He turned back to the US Marshal. “Hey, Deputy . . .”

“Kimmin. Pat Kimmin.”

“Deputy Kimmin. How’s it going, man? Hey, I’ve got a huge favor to ask you. Just between you, me, and the wall, I’m about to get pulled into this thing in a pretty major way. I’m looking for a little me-time to try to get my head around this.”

Kimmin nodded. “Gotcha. You’re looking for a vehicle to crash out in for a time.”

“Exactly.”

“You’ve come to the right place, my man. Follow me.”

Riley and Skeeter followed Kimmin to an area just inside the cordoned-off zone that had seven or eight cars all parked together. Most looked like your typical government-issue sedans. But there were a few that stood out—a bright-yellow Hummer, a dark-blue early seventies Chevy Nova SS, and a black, late-model Ford Mustang.

Kimmin pulled a key fob out of his pocket and pressed twice. The lights on the Mustang flashed.

“You Marshals get all the cool rides,” Riley said.

Kimmin smiled. “Nothing like a good drug seizure to keep you driving in style.” He handed the keys to Riley. “Take as much time as you need, and feel free to idle it so you can run the AC—give the press toads behind you a little black lung.” Turning to Skeeter, he said, “You, my friend, are going to have to slide that seat way back.”

“Don’t sweat me, man. I’m good,” Skeeter said, putting out his fist.

Kimmin bumped fists with Skeeter, then gave Riley a slap on the back. “As much time as you need,” he reminded them as he turned to go.

“Sure you don’t want to come in?” Riley asked Skeet.

“Nah, you need the space. I could use the fresh air after that truck.”

Riley opened the door of the Mustang and thought, This car is beautiful! If I’m going to spend the last hour of my life anywhere, it might as well be in here. Then he caught himself. Quit thinking that way. Scott’s got a plan, and God’s got you in his sights.

Riley eased himself onto the black-and-white rally-striped leather bucket seat and leaned his head back against the embossed Shelby cobra. His hand rested easily on the white ball of the shifter. Oh, I am so getting one of these.

He started the engine and listened to the throaty rumble. Suddenly, he had the urge to put the car in gear and tear out of there. He could drive through the afternoon and be three states away by the time it got dark. If anyone caught up with him, he could just claim PTSD, get a little counseling, and all would be well.

Khadi . . . how’d you get yourself caught up in this? This shouldn’t be our battle! Why’d you leave CTD to begin with? You could be saving people rather than having to be saved yourself! The whole situation just sucks so bad! I didn’t ask for any of this! I was done!

Why me, God? Why do I have to be the one to go in there? Do You know what they’re going to do to me? They’re going to beat the living crap out of me! Then, unless Scott can pull another miraculous rescue out of his hat, they’re going to take a dull knife and cut my head off!

Oh, God, I so don’t want to do this! Please, if there is any other way, show me now! The car had cooled down quickly, and Riley turned the air-conditioning to low. Taking his cell phone out of his pocket, he dialed a number.

“Where are you, son?” Grandpa answered on the second ring. “Are you at the cathedral?”

“Yeah, Gramps, I am.”

“What’s going on? I can hear it in your voice that there’s something happening. Is Khadi okay?”

Riley pressed in the clutch and began cycling the Mustang through its six gears. “So far. They’re going to kill her, Grandpa.”

“I know. I saw the video. Have you and Scott and the rest of the folks there come up with a way to get her out?”

“Well, yeah . . . yeah we have.” He dropped the car back into neutral and let out the clutch.

“What is it, son?” Riley could hear the anxiety building in Grandpa’s voice. “Talk to me, boy.”

“Are you with Mom?”

“Not yet. I’m in the car heading over there now.”

Tracing the silver mustang on the middle of the steering wheel, Riley said, “We’re doing a swap, Grandpa. Straight up—me for her.”

Grandpa said nothing.

“It was the only way I could think of. Any rescue assault couldn’t be carried out until at least two. That’s an hour too late. So I offered myself—and the whack job jumped at the chance to do a number on Captain America. It buys Scott a little more time, and it buys Khadi’s life.”

“Does it buy Scott enough time?”

“I don’t know, Grandpa.” Riley leaned his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t know.”

Both men were silent awhile. Finally, Grandpa said, “I won’t tell your mother. She’s frantic enough about Khadi. And with Jerry’s passing, if she knew there was a possibility that you might . . .”

“Actually, Grandpa, she knows. Well, not all the details, but she knows I’m here. Believe it or not, she’s the one that told me to come save Khadi.”

Grandpa gave a mirthless chuckle. “Oh, I believe it, all right. That sounds very much like your mom. Still, I don’t think she planned on you going in there to take Khadi’s place.”

“No, you’re right.”

“I have to tell you, Riley—straight up and honest—I don’t have a good feeling about this. I really don’t.”

That wasn’t what Riley wanted to hear. But he also didn’t want Grandpa to sugarcoat things. “I don’t have a good feeling about this either, Grandpa. But what else am I going to do? It’s my life for Khadi’s life. I have no option.”

Riley opened up a storage compartment on the center console. Inside were a .38 special, a pack of Camels, and some Trident. Either he just got this car, or he’s very careful not to smoke in here, because it still smells new. He stole a piece of the gum and popped it in his mouth.

“Are you sure? There’s no other way to buy time? Nothing Scott can do with ops to neutralize the situation? No way to negotiate her release?”

“There’s nothing, Grandpa. This guy’s sociopathic—absolutely no mercy. Believe me, if there were another way . . .”

“I know, I know. I just had to ask,” Grandpa said, the pain in his voice tightening his words. “Oh, Riley . . . Riley, my dear boy . . .”

“Is there any way you could pray for me, Grandpa?” Riley asked, closing the center console and leaning his head forward on the cool leather of the steering wheel.

After a time, Grandpa spoke, his voice low and strong. “Our Father, almighty creator of the universe, everlasting Lord, Holy One of Israel, I . . . I don’t even know how to pray to You right now. Protect my grandson. He’s all his mom and I have left in this world. You know his heart. You know the kind of man he is. And as much as his mom and I love him, I know that You love him far more.

“You said, ‘Greater love has no man than to lay down his life for a friend.’ Riley is taking that to heart, Lord. He is living it out. And in the same way we can be saved for eternity through Your perfect sacrifice, we pray that Khadi will take this opportunity to find her salvation in You because of Riley’s actions. Riley’s eternity is secure; he’s at peace with You. Please let Khadi find that same security and peace. If she does, then we can both say that whatever happens to this boy of mine would truly have been worth the price.

“Now, Lord, strengthen this man. Give him the integrity to show Your love to his enemies. Help him to forgive those who desire to cause his death. Let him be a perfect example of who You are—a light in the darkness that’s overtaken that cathedral. And, Lord, as we prayed for Khadi, we pray for these men. Let them find You. They are no different than we once were, sinners in need of a Savior. They have been deceived into following a lie—a lie that’s about to take them to their deaths. Have mercy on them, O God.

“Precious Savior, I plead with You to please bring this boy back to his mother and me. But if You don’t . . . if You don’t, then help us to keep trusting You. Your will be done, Lord. Your will be done. . . . Amen.”

“Amen,” Riley agreed. “Thanks.”

“I’m just pulling up in front of your mom’s house. Do you want to say anything to her?”

Riley considered a moment. “No, I . . . I think we said it all already. Just tell her how much I love her.”

“You got it. I love you, boy.”

“I love you, too, Grandpa.”

Riley pressed End and stared at the dash controls glowing a faint blue. He looked to the lower left of the console and found a little wheel. He spun it upward, and the blue light got brighter. That’s better, he thought.

Thanks, God, for Grandpa.

As he prepared to slip his phone into his pocket, he had another thought. Bringing up Keith Simmons’s number, he typed, At cathedral. Don’t call, just PRAY! If something happens to me, Parker house goes to your NYC ministry. Love you, bro!

A few minutes later, his phone chirped. He read, Put u on chain—EVERYONES PRAYING! Gods got his eyes on u. U already owe me house after burning down my cabin! Love u, bro!

Riley chuckled and slid the phone into his jacket pocket. He tried to think of anyone else that he needed to connect with but couldn’t come up with any names. He checked his watch and saw that time was getting short.

Then, suddenly, a name did pop into his mind. Duh! How could I possibly have missed that? He pulled the keys from the ignition, pushed open the door, and spotted Skeeter leaning against the Hummer.

“Come on, buddy,” he called out. “I’ve got one more thing I need to do.” And he took off running, with Skeeter close behind.