Like Akhil, Foram was a doctor, and knew that Brij's prognosis was grim. On his trip home, Akhil had ferried his father to specialists in New Delhi. Brij had incurable heart disease. If he took his medicine, he might live two, maybe three years.

In the car, Foram asked for a medical update.

"Dad is stable," Akhil said.

"It will be fine," she lied. "I'm sure."

INTERSTATE, NEAR CHESTER

In the predawn darkness, Barb drove south.

She gripped the steering wheel and cursed. This is going to be such a waste of time.

Barb was headed to suburban Washington for an all-day briefing by DEA's Special Operations Division. SOD wanted everyone involved to attend so it could coordinate the global takedown.

Certainly this was important for the agents, Barb thought, but why prosecutors? Barb felt exhausted, annoyed.

She pulled into a Home Depot parking lot to pick up Frank Costello, the prosecutor who would replace her after the arrests.

This was the first chance they'd had to talk. Barb discussed the charges, the targets, the personalities. She mentioned two deaths, but quickly added that they'd been ruled suicides and were not part of the case. Her briefing was scattershot, fueled by caffeine and tension.

Costello looked into her bloodshot eyes. "How much sleep did you get last night?"

"I left the office at 2 a.m."

"Pull over. I'm driving."

CHANTILLY, VA.

"Chin straps on!"

SOD agents used this gung-ho phrase to psych themselves up for raids.

Now, as folks from Philadelphia, New York, Washington, India, Costa Rica and Hungary gathered at SOD's unmarked building near Dulles Airport, someone invoked the mantra.

Barb rolled her eyes.