Dirk remembered only one time when he had seen his president so furious, and it wasn’t a time he liked to think about—it was the time when Herman Ruiz had almost broken him. The only reason why Stephan had not gone berserk three years ago was that Dirk was falling apart, and he needed the others to keep their cool and keep him together. This time, however, Dirk was whole again—more or less, as whole as he would ever be, given the fact that he would never be whole again—and Stephan had the luxury to go on a rampage. Except that he didn’t, not really. No matter how badly they wanted to, they couldn’t go riding off into the night killing Tar Mongols left and right. They needed a plan, and it just so happened that Dirk had one. He just wasn’t sure anyone else would be on board with it. He waited for the right time—or as right a time as it could be, considering the circumstances. He waited until the doctors had patched Kyle up and told them he was going to be okay, but they were keeping him for forty-eight hours for observation.
