He tilted his head in an attempt to divert a stream of blood that trickled into his eye. Two of his four captors were in his living room. One of them had turned on the television, was watching the rolling news station he and Danny had watched together a few short hours earlier. The leader, a man they addressed as “Lincoln”, stood in front of Tansen, arms crossed. “Linc,” said the man watching the television. Lincoln turned. “What is it, Washington?” “Check it out.” Tansen craned his head. It was familiar footage of the burned-out Winnebago, bodies under sheets. Then another shot of a different stretch of road. And two more bodies. So all four of the dead operatives had been found. How long before the Gunn brothers were linked to the carnage? He twisted against the cord that cut into his wrists. “Four bodies, plus a cop, all on the 375. That tallies with past data points for the last team’s satellite phone. They definitely never made it this far.” Lincoln cocked his head.
