Hope Rises

by David Baldacci

Genres: Mystery

Synopsis

Walter Nash began a journey down a dark path of seemingly no return, and now he  finds himself questioning everything that got him there in this thrilling sequel to Nash Falls from #1 New York Times bestselling author David Baldacci.

Walter Nash, working under the alias of Dillon Hope, is on the road to revenge after becoming an informant for the FBI against a global criminal operation headed up by Victoria Steers. Steers has ripped everything Nash held dear away from him. He has nothing left to lose and with long, rigorous training under his belt the gentle and sensitive Nash has transformed into something he never thought he’d be: a physically imposing man with lethal skills. And now he has only goal left in life: taking down Victoria Steers.

In order to succeed, he’s going to need to cross enemy lines and work the job from the inside. But Steers is shrewd and only brings those with her complete trust into her inner circle. Nash must rely on every ounce of his hard-earned skills in order to prove himself an ally to Steers if he’s ever going to get close enough to decimate her criminal empire.

Yet, despite hating the woman for destroying his life, Nash finds himself oddly drawn to Steers in ways that he never could’ve imagined. And what he ultimately discovers will turn all he believed upside down, forcing Nash to do something truly unfathomable.

So, will the truth set Nash free?

Or end him?

Release date: April 14, 2026

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 416

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Sample

WALTER NASH WAS JOLTED AWAKE as the jet he was on en route to Hong Kong encountered some rough air. He turned to see his employer, Rhett Temple, sitting next to him.

Nash’s now-alert gaze then moved to Lynn Ryder, who was asleep in a forward seat on the privately owned plane soaring westward toward Asia. Ryder was in her thirties with long white hair that was either colored or natural, he didn’t know which. She was also an emissary for Victoria Steers, one of the most dangerous criminals in the world. They were currently aboard Steers’s jet and were traveling to see the woman, at her behest.

He next glanced out the window and saw his image reflected back. That spurred Nash to reflect on his life. He used to be a mild-mannered, law-abiding business executive, tall and skinny, with no discernible muscle, a full head of hair, and nary a tattoo within a mile of him. Out of necessity Nash had shaved his head, grown facial hair, and transformed himself into a muscled and tatted fighting machine, complete with a new identity: Dillon Hope, personal security expert. No one—not even his wife, Judith—now recognized him.

He had gone from reviewing business plans and acquiring companies and flying on corporate jets, with not a whiff of intrigue or danger in his life, to playing a deadly game of cat and mouse and having to fool everyone around him into believing he really was Dillon Hope. Because he knew that Lynn Ryder and Victoria Steers wanted nothing more than to kill Walter Nash because he had been recruited by the FBI to help bring down the Steers criminal empire.

I truly am living in the upside-down world. And I seriously doubt I will ever get back to my world, if it even still exists.

He turned to Temple, the CEO of Sybaritic Investments, Nash’s former employer. The man had been across the aisle when Nash first shut his eyes, and Nash wondered why he had changed seats. It was a small detail, but Nash sensed that even seemingly trivial acts clearly mattered right now.

As Dillon Hope, Nash had dexterously placed himself in a position to be employed as his old boss’s personal bodyguard, without Temple having any clue as to Nash’s real identity.

Speaking in the slow, deliberate tone he had adopted as Hope’s voice, Nash said, “Is there a problem?”

Temple replied quietly, “Look, Dillon, it’s delicate, but Victoria Steers is not… completely on the up-and-up.”

“Okay,” said Nash cautiously. “Meaning what exactly?”

“She’s… well, dangerous. And I don’t want you to slip up and get yourself in trouble when you meet her.”

Nash thought it far more likely that Temple didn’t want Nash to get him in trouble with the villainous Steers.

Though he well knew the answer, Nash asked, “Exactly how is she not on the up-and-up and dangerous?”

“She’s into illegal drug distribution on a global scale. And she has people killed. That’s how.”

Nash stared back in feigned astonishment at his boss. “What the hell, Mr. Temple? Why is a rich guy like you involved with her?”

“It’s a long story, Dillon. My father… he was working with her to recoup his fortune and he got me involved. I wish I had an out but I don’t. I really don’t. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“So she wants to meet? Why?”

Temple leaned in closer and said in a near whisper, “The FBI has tried to make some inroads at my company, finding a mole—a spy there to help them.”

Nash let his jaw go slack. “The FBI! Jesus, Mr. Temple, I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Then you shouldn’t have come,” said a voice.

Both men looked up to see Ryder standing in the aisle, scowling at them. “In fact, as I made very clear, I did not want you to come.”

Nash glanced at Temple before saying, “As his personal security guard, I insisted on coming because I was concerned with Mr. Temple’s safety. But, frankly, I might have declined if I had known all the facts.”

Ryder gave Temple a withering look. “And now that you have been provided some facts, we will see what happens when we arrive in Hong Kong.” She walked back to her seat.

Temple glanced at Nash. “Dillon, I’m sorry you got caught up in all this. I really am.”

He returned to his seat, where he closed his eyes and started taking deep, calming breaths.

Nash looked out the window, his heart heavy but his spirits coalescing around a possible opportunity. Well, Nash, this might be the end of you. But if I go down, I’m taking others with me. Starting with Victoria Steers.

A MAN WAS WAITING FOR THEM in the airport with Lynn Ryder’s name on an iPad. He led them to a large Mercedes passenger van in the parking garage. There were four men there in addition to the driver. Nash could see that all of them were armed. After their bags were loaded in they were driven off; one sturdy guard sat on either side of both Nash and Temple. They passed through a tunnel under Victoria Harbour and emerged into daylight on the other side. After negotiating a series of surface roads they reached a high-rise building in the Hung Hom neighborhood, which was located in the southeast section of Kowloon Peninsula. Nash recognized the area because he had stayed nearby on a previous trip while working for Sybaritic.

The Mercedes parked in the building’s underground garage, and a minute later a glass elevator was carrying them skyward.

Temple looked nervous, Ryder confident, and Nash, despite his anxiety level riding pretty high, did his best to appear calm.

The doors opened directly into an entry vestibule, where two armed men appeared. They efficiently searched Nash and Temple, and promptly confiscated Nash’s two guns and both men’s phones.

“I want those back,” demanded Nash. However, nothing was returned.

They were escorted into a large room with floor-to-ceiling windows and sweeping views of the dazzling harbor. Ryder took a seat next to a large chair set in the center of the room, while Nash and Temple were directed to a pair of seats across from her.

Nash’s gaze took in every aspect of the room, especially the armed men. What Nash was observing was not good, since he had no weapons and the exits were guarded by men who did. And he was in a foreign land that was controlled by China.

Your margin of error is basically zero.

Then she came into the room.

Prior to this Nash had seen only a photo of Victoria Steers, briefly shown to him during a meeting with the FBI. Steers was the product of a Chinese mother and an English father. Tall and lean, with long black hair and porcelain skin, Steers glided across the floor dressed in sleek dark clothing that covered all of her body except her neck, face, and hands. She carried no weapon and did not look particularly threatening, yet at her appearance every hair stood up on the back of Nash’s neck. There was an aura around the woman that was undeniable; it filled Nash with a sense of foreboding that something violently destructive could happen without warning.

When he eyed Temple, Nash noted that his boss was staring at Steers with palpable fear.

Steers smiled at Ryder. “Thank you, Lynn, for all your good work.”

“Of course, Ms. Steers.”

Then Steers looked at Temple. “Mr. Temple, introduce me to your colleague, whom you insisted accompany you on this trip despite my objections.”

Temple cleared his throat and said, “This is Dillon Hope, my personal bodyguard.”

“Your personal bodyguard? Do you have something to fear, Mr. Temple?”

“Everyone has something to fear, Ms. Steers.”

She glanced at Ryder before saying, “I also understand that Mr. Hope has been told some things?”

Temple’s lips curled in displeasure in the face of Ryder’s smug features. “He had to be told some things about our business, Ms. Steers. But he is a professional, and everything will be kept in the strictest confidence, I can assure you.”

Steers’s features turned even more stern. “You have revealed some of our business to a man I do not even know? You have, without question, performed an act that is truly unforgivable.”

“I was told you had approved it,” Temple added, with a sharp glance at Ryder. “And he can be a real asset to you,” he added. “He’s top-notch. I’ve seen that for myself.”

“I have many top-notch people in my employ already, Mr. Temple. I require no others.”

She slowly withdrew her searing gaze from him and swung it around to Nash. “However, Mr. Hope, now that you are here, it will be interesting to see if you can become an asset. I trust you understand all that this entails?”

“I do, Ms. Steers,” Nash said in a casual tone, although every muscle in his body was tensed in the face of her threatening phrasing.

If I can just reach the man who took my guns…

As though she were reading Nash’s mind, Steers held out her hand. One of the guards produced a Glock nine-mill and placed it in her palm. She gripped it, checked the mag, and racked the slide, loading a bullet.

As she looked at them Temple went rigid in his chair, and Nash felt his butt cheeks involuntarily clench.

“A good choice in a personal sidearm, Mr. Hope,” she said. “However, I prefer a Norinco NP42 Mini. But then again, I like to buy local.”

“The Chinese also make good weapons,” Nash said.

“Indeed they do. They made me, after all. I also understand that three of my people are now in the custody of the FBI. That is a decided setback that I find unacceptable. Accountability must be served.”

At this abrupt segue, Temple glanced anxiously at Ryder and blurted out, “I had nothing to do with that. That was not my call. I argued against it, in fact.”

Steers said menacingly, “You disavow all responsibility for this debacle? Is that really what you are telling me?”

Temple sputtered, “I didn’t mean… I just wanted to point out that…” He glanced at Ryder and saw her smug look deepen even as he squirmed.

Before he could say anything else, Steers raised the pistol, causing Temple to put up his hands and flinch backward. Nash prepared to leap at the woman before she could fire.

Steers then pointed the gun to her left, pulled the trigger, and shot Ryder in the head. The woman fell to the floor, blood and other bits of her spraying all over her clothing and white hair. Some of the blowback also dotted Steers’s cheek, hand, and sleeve. One of the guards hustled forward and used a wet cloth to thoroughly clean her off. Two other men rushed in, wrapped Ryder in plastic, and carried her out. The chair in which she had been sitting was also removed and the marble floor underneath the chair thoroughly mopped. Temple and Nash sat there, stunned, while Steers had her eyes closed.

When all traces of the woman had been removed, Steers opened her eyes and studied the two men.

“Death can be awkward,” she said quietly. “And unpleasant.”

“Yes, it can,” said Nash evenly, though he felt sickened.

“And also necessary,” Steers added. She looked at Temple. “Decisions that led to my agents being in the custody of the FBI are… not… good.”

“No,” agreed Temple quickly. He still looked horrified by what had just happened.

Steers once more turned to Nash. “I trust that you understand the implications of what has just transpired, Mr. Hope?”

Nash said cautiously, “You mean Ryder’s death?”

She shook her head. “You disappoint me. I thought it rather obvious.” She held up the pistol. “You and your weapon have just committed a terrible crime in Hong Kong. And though Hong Kong does not have the death penalty, China does. It is done by lethal injection, or else they shoot you.” She handed the gun to one of her men. “That choice will be theirs. But you also have a choice to make.” She glanced at Temple. “And as an accessory, Mr. Temple, your fate will not be much better: life in prison. But again, you have a choice as well.”

“You mean we can choose to work with you?” Nash said grimly.

She shook her head once more. “To work for me.”

“And if we refuse?” said Nash, already knowing the answer.

“Then steps will be taken to demonstrate that my colleague’s murder occurred in China, and all necessary evidence to implicate both of you in her death will be provided. The rest is assuredly known to you. One of you will be executed, and the other will spend his life in a Chinese prison.” She added coolly, “I think I would prefer death, actually. The Chinese are often not kind to their own law-abiding citizens. And they are completely ruthless with respect to their criminals.” She glanced at Temple. “And Americans in particular are not at all popular in China at present.”

“To work for you doing what exactly, Ms. Steers?” asked Temple in a tremulous voice.

Nash thought he knew the answer. But it would turn out that he could not have been further from the truth.

She said, “My mother is being held in a prison in another country. And you both are going to help set her free.”

WALTER NASH STARED UP FROM his bed at a ceiling that was a frothy shade of seafoam green. It was so calming and neutral that he almost forgot he was in Hong Kong and that his life was in serious peril.

Almost.

It was two in the morning local time. He had been asleep for only three hours and now was wide awake. And it had nothing to do with jet lag. The reason was two floors above him in the penthouse, where, he assumed, Victoria Steers was sleeping just fine in her bed.

Nash had no idea what they’d done with Ryder’s body, but he was certain that if he didn’t do what Steers wanted him to do, he would be taken to China and charged with Ryder’s murder.

But rescue her mother from a prison in another country? How the hell are we supposed to do that?

Yet he had one thing going for him: His Army veteran father had had an unstoppable motor, powering through every obstacle to reach his goals under the most hellish of conditions. And though he and his father had been estranged for over half of Nash’s life, he had apparently inherited this attribute from him.

He listened for sounds from the adjacent bedroom where he knew Temple was sleeping. His boss had mentioned he was looking for an exit from this nightmare with Steers. However, Nash thought it far more likely that they would both leave Hong Kong in body bags.

But her mother being in a prison did answer the question of where Masuyo Steers had been all this time.

His thoughts next turned to his wife, Judith. She was in FBI protective custody after Nash had saved her life from Steers’s killers. Judith had initially believed he had sexually abused and then killed their daughter, Maggie, until the FBI had released proof that he had been framed. This was a plan that Steers had come up with to destroy Nash’s relationship with the FBI, who had recruited him to help bring down Steers’s criminal empire.

Well, I might have a new goal now that is not aligned with the FBI’s.

Killing Victoria Steers. And if I get the chance I need to take it. So my being here so close to the woman might be a good thing.

He slept fitfully for a few hours, rose from his bed, showered, changed into a clean set of clothes, and joined Temple in the small kitchen, where a breakfast had been laid out by a woman who never made eye contact or spoke a word. Both men ate their meals in silence, lost in their own dismal thoughts.

After Temple finished his coffee he said, “Jesus, I can’t believe she just shot Ryder like that. And she seemed to like her. So God help us.”

“You ever see her kill someone before?” Nash asked.

“I heard her order someone to be killed. And I’ve seen some of her handiwork.”

“Don’t know how you kept all that to yourself, Mr. Temple. Although I guess you had no choice.”

“Look, Dillon, like I said before, I’m sorry you got sucked into this.”

“I sort of insisted, Mr. Temple. Although I have to say I didn’t foresee this.”

“I… I never should have come, either. I should have run for it. But Steers would have found me. And she would have killed my stepmother, Mindy, and her kid, and my siblings, too. My father took the easy way out by jumping off his balcony.”

Nash strongly suspected that Temple had killed his father, Barton Temple, but that didn’t matter right now. Maybe one day the son would be held accountable for his father’s death if he had indeed murdered him. But right now Nash needed to worry about himself. One small misstep and his cover might be blown. He had done well up to this point in keeping the truth from Temple. But with Steers on the scene, tomorrow was simply another day to make a critical mistake. And then he would be dead.

“Any idea who the hell her mother is?” he asked.

Nash actually knew some things about the woman, only because the FBI had filled him in. But the extent of his intel was limited, and he wanted to know whatever else the other man did.

Temple said, “Steers has never mentioned her parents to me, but I found out some details from other sources. Her mother’s name is Masuyo. Her husband was a Navy guy from England who stayed in Japan after he got out of the service. He wasn’t any sort of criminal, at least I don’t think so. But Masuyo had the connections, brains, and cunning that pushed the empire she created to a truly global level.” Temple paused and then said, in a resigned voice, “You should know that Steers killed all her siblings in order to take over the business in some sort of survivor’s contest. I mean, how sick is that?”

“She mentioned turning us in to the Chinese. Is she tight with them?”

“I don’t know for sure,” said Temple. “But I do know she’s dangerous and all the guys who work for her could kill us with their pinkies.”

Nash suddenly thought of something he should have before. He rose, grabbed a piece of paper and pen from a drawer, wrote something on the paper, and slid it across to Temple. When the man read it, he looked up, utterly terrified.

Nash had just suggested that the apartment was bugged. He said, “I guess we just wait until she tells us the plan.”

“Right,” said Temple as he tore the paper into strips and threw them into the trash. Then he put his face in his hands and moaned.

A knock on the apartment door a minute later caused both of them to jump.

“I guess it’s time,” said Nash.

THEY WERE ONCE MORE SEATED across from Steers in her penthouse. Nash found his eyes wandering to the spot where Lynn Ryder had died and felt some sympathy for the woman, even though she probably would have cheered if he had been the one to perish.

Getting your humanity back, Nash? Don’t. It won’t be useful now because no one around you has any.

His gaze finally landed on Steers, and he had to fight the urge to try to strangle her.

Steers said, “Gentlemen, what I am about to divulge will show the faith that I am placing in each of you. This mission that you will undertake is delicate and dangerous, but the rewards for each of you will be… enticing.”

Nash thought the woman had an oddly formal way of speaking. But he assumed that Mandarin had been her first language, or perhaps Japanese. The FBI had told him that Masuyo, while she had purportedly been Japanese and had met her husband there, had actually been an agent of the Chinese Communist Party, and had been sent to Japan to undermine its democratic institutions.

Nash said, “We’re listening.”

Steers closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them they seemed, to Nash, to sparkle with an ethereal force.

“My mother is Masuyo Steers. She is currently being held in a private prison facility in an isolated region in Myanmar near the Chinese border.”

“A private prison in Myanmar?” said Temple. “I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

She gave him a superior look. “You and your father traveled extensively in what was then Burma.”

“How did you know that?” said Temple in surprise.

“I always know what I need to know. And your father worked for me. I elicited this information from him because I knew it might be useful one day. And so it has become. Now enlighten me as to what you do know about the country.”

Temple glanced at Nash. “That it’s a very unstable place. I wanted to travel there last year on business. Like you just said, I’d been there with my father a number of times, when it was still called Burma. I even became passable in the language. But then Covid hit, and the State Department strongly advised Americans not to travel there because of the junta’s coup and the presence of armed militia and insurgents. It’s a chaotic hotbed with lots of different factions asserting authority over a patchwork of territories and cities. A real mess.”

“Doubtless, you will not be surprised to learn that I am also aware of all that, Mr. Temple,” said Steers. “But it is good that you are as well and have familiarity with the language. This will increase the odds of successfully bringing my mother home safely and was also the reason I constructed this plan with your involvement.”

Steers now made a point of turning to Nash. “However, while your employer has some value to this mission and has long worked for me, you must think it somewhat curious that I would engage you, Mr. Hope, whom I know not at all, with the task of freeing my mother from her incarceration.”

“Well, you can pin a murder rap on us. And we’re in a foreign country, totally in your control. Our only chance of getting out of this alive is to do all we can to succeed in freeing your mother. I assume that is why you’re entrusting both of us with this mission. It’s not like we have a choice.”

“I must congratulate you, Mr. Temple,” said Steers.

“For what?”

“Your judgment in selecting bodyguards.”

She said to Nash, “Lynn Ryder informed me that you had saved Mr. Temple and a friend from grievous bodily harm.”

“I can hold my own and I did my job, yes.”

“Good, because I believe that your skill set will be required. I will now explain in detail.”

MY MOTHER HAS BEEN IMPRISONED for many years now,” began Steers.

“Why?” asked Nash. “What crimes did she commit?”

Steers said dismissively, “She has broken no laws. She is a political prisoner.”

Temple said, “So she’s a political prisoner of the Myanmar government? What did she do for them to imprison her?”

Steers said sharply, “That is not relevant. And the prison is not run by the government; it is private, as I said. Nor is it controlled by the various rebel groups.”

“Then who does control it?” asked Nash.

“Again, irrelevant to the mission. What matters is my mother is not in good health, and I will not allow her to remain there.”

Nash said, “I’m sure you have highly skilled people to do this for you.”

“I have people who are well-known to the people from whom we will be extracting my mother. Whereas, you both are unknown to them, which makes you particularly useful to its success.”

“Just so it’s clear, I would do anything to help you, Ms. Steers,” said Temple. “But two Americans trying to free your mother from what I assume is a heavily guarded prison in a hostile land in Asia does not seem a recipe for success.”

“It’s all in the details, Mr. Temple. I have thought through every conceivable possibility and have arrived at a bold plan that I believe represents the best opportunity for my mother’s freedom. And you both will be critical to that success.” She glanced at Nash. “At first, I was only going to allow Mr. Temple to journey there, Mr. Hope. But when Mr. Temple insisted you come, I queried Lynn Ryder and, as I alluded to before, she told me of your… strengths. I was intrigued, and thus here you are as well. I trust you will not disappoint me.”

“And when do you plan on our executing this mission?” asked Nash.

“Very soon. Ideally, we would have more time, but there is nothing ideal about the situation. Thus, you both will have to learn most of what you need on the ground in Myanmar.”

“This prison?” began Nash. “I assume you have someone on the inside who will help with the extraction?”

“You are thinking at a level which I appreciate, Mr. Hope. Yes, I do have someone on the inside. Otherwise, the plan would have little chance of success.”

“How far is the prison from here?” asked Nash.

“Normally, the flight time is around four hours, but commercial service is not reliable and in some regions completely unavailable. The airspace around the prison is tightly restricted. And the junta, which now controls less than half the country, has taken to bombing the parts held by rebel factions. So it is decidedly risky on all levels. Thus, you will work your way to the prison from points north, where you will be initially dropped.”

“Points north!” exclaimed Temple. “But to the north of Myanmar is China. And I don’t think going across that border is a good idea.”

“China is not the only country to the north of Myanmar, Mr. Temple,” she chided. “I would have expected you to know this with your many trips to that part of the world.”

“So we enter from the north and make our way south to the region where the prison is located?” said Nash. “How long will that take?”

“A week, at the very least. And you must ingratiate yourself with the people there using the cover provided by others in Myanmar who are working for me on this.”

“And how do we do that?” asked Nash.

“Simply put, Mr. Temple is a businessman seeking commercial opportunities, which will work to his strengths. And you, of course, Mr. Hope, will be his personal bodyguard, which will be a natural fit for your skill set. Despite its political and governing challenges, and the hostilities unfolding across the country, Myanmar is opening up more to foreign trade. Locals engaged by me will be there to help you on your way.”

“And what about my company, Sybaritic?” asked Temple. “I told them I was taking some time off and I’d check in periodically, but still, I can’t just disappear for long periods.”

“All in good time, Mr. Temple. My mother’s welfare comes before all other things.”

“And the enticing rewards you mentioned if we do succeed?” said Nash.

Steers turned her gaze to him. “You get to live, of course.”

IN PREVIOUS BUSINESS NEGOTIATIONS WHERE the outcome was anything but certain, Nash had sometimes sought to throw a scare into the other side, to get them thinking about things they could not completely control. Well, the time had come for him to do that here.

He opened the exterior door of their apartment. There was no one there. He walked toward the elevator at the end of the hall, and that was when two men appeared. They were both around five ten and wiry. He could see the bumps of the guns in their shoulder holsters as they walked toward him. He knew if he attempted to leave the floor these twin guards would not allow it. And he had no interest in fighting that battle, which he would undoubtedly lose.

“I’d like to talk to Ms. Steers,” said Nash.

“What about?” said one.

“It’s for her to hear only. But it’s important. Very important to the reason we’ve been brought here by your boss.”

Nash said this authoritatively and kept eye contact with the man.

“Stay here,” the guard said. He moved away and pulled out his phone.

A minute later he came back and nodded at Nash. “This way.”

He was led into the elevator and up to the top floor of the building. Steers was waiting for him in a small room. The walls and floor were dark in color and the light subdued to the point of near blackness. It was very unsettling at first, but the longer he was there the more calming the surroundings became.

The room had no chairs or other furniture, only tatami mats, and pillows and small colorful balls. The smell of incense tickled his nostrils. The man left him there alone with Steers, who sat in a lotus pose on one of the mats. Her eyes were closed, but she said, “Sit, Mr. Hope.”

Nash sat across from her, his limber joints allowing him to easily duplicate her position.

She opened her eyes, observed this, and said, “You are a practitioner of qigong perhaps?”

“No, but I try to stay flexible. You live longer that way.” He eyed her intently as he said these last words.

“That, of course, remains to be seen,” she shot back. “And what do you want at this late hour?” she said, shutting her eyes once more.

“Just to be clear, I speak for myself, not on behalf of Mr. Temple.”

She nodded. “Go on.”

“I obviously came into this situation late in the game. I don’t have the history with Mr. Temple that you seem to.”

“Agreed. You do not.”

“But he is my employer, and my duty is to keep him safe to the extent that I can.”

“And your point?” she prompted, sounding impatient.

He looked at her long neck and his fingers tensed. He knew her guards were just outside, but Shock had shown him how to do it: prevent the target from calling out, then break the neck at the C1 or C2 vertebra. He edged a bit closer.

“Your point?” she said again, opening her eyes and perhaps, in his mind, noting his slightly closer proximity to her. She called out in what he recognized as Japanese.

A moment later the door opened and the same two men appeared, watching them closely, pistols in hand.

In that moment Nash realized that he had lost the opportunity to kill the woman. But that was the short game. The smart game was bringing her to justice and destroying her empire.

And you have to play it smart, Nash, no matter how much you want to end her life now, to aveng