Most of the spotlights bolted to the decaying brick buildings were broken, adding to the post-Armageddon atmosphere and making it difficult not to trip over the debris littering the ground. Egan continued carefully forward, getting close enough to read the building number on an old machine shop and confirming that he was still moving in the right direction.
     The road came to a T and he took a deep breath before running across an exposed thirty-foot stretch and slipping behind a Dumpster. His heart was pounding harder than could be justified by the brief burst of speed and he stayed there for a moment, willing it to slow. The buildings lining either side of the street gave the impression of bunker-like mini storage units. There were no windows and no conventional doors in any of them—just a single metal garage-type door centered in each facade.
     Egan leaned around the Dumpster and squinted at another number, then ducked back under cover. Billy had called him an hour ago with the address obtained from the Internet service provider Fade had signed up with. It was less than thirty feet away.
     His heart rate rose again and he cursed silently to himself. This had just never been his thing. Fade used to say that combat focused him—made him forget all the bullshit the modern world crowded into his mind. As far as Egan was concerned, though, combat was all about being cold, wet, and scared while people tried to kill you. And all for less than you could make working at a gas station.
     He rolled onto his stomach and focused on the second door on his right. It was closed and there was no light bleeding around it, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Were Fade and Karen Manning inside? Or was it a trap? Fade might have recognized the hopelessness of his situation and used his credit card to bring his enemies to him. In fact, he might be standing on the building across the street with one of those stock hunting rifles he'd used to such effect all over the world.
     Despite the darkness and unseasonably cool temperatures, Egan could feel the sweat beginning to run down his back. Realistically, he had two options. He could wait there and hope Fade showed his face before morning when people would undoubtedly be curious as to why there was a guy with a gun behind their Dumpster. Or he could go get his car and use it as a battering ram against the garage door in hopes that he could surprise his old friend.
     After careful consideration, Egan came to the conclusion that, while both plans sucked, the first sucked slightly less.
     His shoulders were beginning to ache and he lay out flat, resting his cheek on the hand not wrapped around his gun. A little bit of luck. That's all he needed. Just a little bit of luck.
     After about a half an hour of complete silence, his phone began vibrating. He checked the incoming number nervously, expecting it to be Fade informing him that he had his scope all lined up and was about to put a bullet through his skull, but it turned out to just be Billy.
     "What?" Egan whispered.
     "Al Fayed used his card again! About twenty minutes ago. A grocery store a couple miles from you."
     Egan relaxed a bit at the realization that Fade probably wasn't within rifle range.
     "What did he buy?"
     "Dunno. Damn store closed right after he used it. But he spent fifty-eight bucks."
     "Okay. Thanks."
     "Hillel just got back to the office—he looks like he got beat up or something, but he's not talking so I have no idea what happened... Anyway, his goons are here too and they look available. You want me to send them out to back you up?"
     Egan let out a quiet breath. In theory it would have been nice to have a couple of talented operators on the rooftops, but based on his last meeting with Strand, it seemed likely that he would accept nothing less than the deaths of both Fade and Karen Manning. It might have also occurred to him that it would be fairly convenient if Egan ended up shot, too. He knew a little more than Strand would be comfortable with and would make a more compliant scapegoat if he were a corpse.
     No, the worst case scenario for him would be getting killed alongside Fade. If he was destined to die here tonight, he wanted to go out knowing that Fade would continue to chase Hillel around until one of them dropped. Vindictive? Sure. But he had a right.
      "No. I'll deal with this myself."
     "Are you sure, Matt? I mean, I know you did okay at the hospital but last time this guy had a home field advantage..."
     "Thanks for reminding me, Billy. I feel a lot better now. Really."
     "I just don't want anything to happen to you, man."
     "Look, I'll give you a call in an hour to check in. If you don't hear from me... Well, you're probably not going to."
     He turned off the phone and inched to his right a bit, replacing his view of Fade's building with a view of the only street leading up to it.
     Another half an hour passed before a high-pitched metallic rattle became audible. The sound continued to get louder as whatever was making it moved closer, and Egan concentrated on keeping his breathing even and his family out of his head.
     The dark shape that began to emerge from around the corner was initially unidentifiable but the sound it made was strangely familiar. A shopping cart. His educated guess was confirmed when the light from the machine shop glinted off it.
     The man pushing it was wearing a baseball cap that shaded his face and a formless jacket that effectively hid his build. He seemed to be leaning a little harder on the cart than he should have been and still his limp was plainly evident. Egan had noticed Fade favoring his right leg at Elise's show. Was it him?