Sayeed took a slow, measured breath. He thought of the millions of people currently stuck in Dhaka’s legendary traffic just miles away, unaware that their world was balanced on a copper wire.
Over the radio, he heard the cheers of the command center, but Ashfaq’s voice was the only one that mattered. "He’s gone dark, Sayeed. He escaped. But we have his signature now."
"He’s watching me, isn't he?" Sayeed asked, his breath heavy in the helmet.
"In this city, we don't have the luxury of running away," Sayeed whispered.