“God damn it to hell, Director!” Muggs spat into the phone. “I will not sit idly by while my partner is in mortal danger!”

"I understand you’re angry, Mose. I am too. But the fact of the matter is that we’ve been given an order by our President.”

“Fine, throw out seven months of hard work. That’s just dandy.” Muggs huffed. “But don’t you dare tell me there isn’t a thing we can do to help get our people out of there.”

“I’ve been given my orders and you’ve been given yours, Agent. That’s how it works. Your partner says he can hold out a while. If he can get away to safety, then I say God bless him—and we’ll welcome him back with open arms once this all blows over. We just have to see how the events play out over the next few days. And for all our sakes, stay off the phone with him.”

“He could be dead in a few days!”

“He knew the risks when he took the job just as well as you did, Agent.”

Muggs was silent for too long.

“Agent? Mose?”

“I’m fine. Sorry to have disturbed you.”

“Wait just a—”

Muggs switched off the phone. Sighing into his hands on the edge of the bed, he turned the possibilities over in his mind. He was just one man, but there was no way he would leave his partner in the lurch. After a few moments of deliberation, he powered the mobile back on and called the airport.