The Chimera Vector (The Fifth Column #1)

The silence in the desert was oppressive, broken only by the hum of the Land Cruiser's engine and the distant, tinny music from Jay's internal world. Sophia sat in the passenger seat, fingers drumming an anxious rhythm on the handbrake. Beside her, Jay drove, his thermogenic vision cutting through the coal-black night, making the world a tapestry of heat signatures and cool shadows.

In the back, Damien sat, his carbine undoubtedly clutched tight. "Will you relax?" Jay's voice, surprisingly calm, cut through the quiet.

"When we're across the border," Sophia replied, her voice tight. The mission, the assassination of the Minister of Defense, was supposedly complete, but the lack of sirens, the eerie quiet, clung to her like a shroud. Something felt off, deeply wrong.

She swept her night vision monocular across the featureless expanse. Ahead, a faint glow promised a town. "Watch that town," she commanded. "Go around."

"Yeah, I got it," Jay said, but the glow wasn't a town. It was a Citroën sedan, headlights blazing, peeling from the darkness, heading straight for them. Civilian? Military? Either way, trouble.

"We can't be seen. Not yet," Sophia muttered, as Damien's low voice rumbled, "They're looking for us."

"They can't look for something that don't exist," Jay retorted, swerving hard left. The sedan was gaining, its occupants still indistinct. Then, through her monocular, she saw them: uniforms, rifles. Takavaran. "Takavaran," she confirmed, extending the buttstock of her HK53. Their cover was blown. The fight was coming.