Germ

a dozen feet ahead of the others. When she discovered that she had been attacked by a piece of duct tape that had come loose, she rubbed it and said nothing.

Tate dropped down beside her, taking the healthy deep breaths of an athlete in training. He checked his watch and said, 'Three-minute break.' He removed the knapsack from his back and withdrew a canteen, which he handed to Julia. She took a long pull of tepid water. quenching a thirst she had only vaguely acknowledged. Tate rummaged in the knapsack, then offered leathery strips of beef jerky, brightly wrapped energy bars, and the requisite oranges.

Julia squinted up at an impossibly yellow sun dancing on the tree-tops. For a moment, it was possible to believe she was back in Georgia, out in the Chattahoochee wilderness, her feet caressed by the waters of Holcomb Creek. Jodi would be getting on Goody for talking business, while he waved her off good-naturedly and slapped her behind. The boys would be laughing, splashing in the creek, asking, 'When are we gonna eat?' The sun warmed her face, splashing red flowers against her closed eyelids. A thousand fragrances mixed on the breeze and—

'Time's up!' Tate bellowed like a football coach.

Julia gazed up at him, dazed and disappointed. He unsheathed the machete, exhaled loudly, and marched forward, leaving a smoldering cigar in the cup of a peeled orange.

After an hour, the treacheries of jungle travel became tedious, and her mind reached out to their destination: What will we find there? What opposition? What breaks? She wondered what Kendrick Reynolds was doing. Had he sent in a commando team? Was he, even now, negotiating for Litt's surrender? Two days had passed since she left the hard drive for him. He should have begun the operation to stop Litt immediately.

She slid down a muddy bank into yet another stream, following Tate and dimly aware of Stephen's presence behind her. She was moving mechanically now, using some primal surface consciousness to travel efficiently, grabbing a root to stabilize herself for a trick descent or mimicking Tate's jog around a nasty thicket.

She didn't realize Tate had stopped until she walked into him. He had his forefinger pressed to his lips. She held up her palm to Stephen. Around them, trees rose like scaffoldings, holding their heavy leaves sixty feet above the ground. Smaller trees and bushes, their spindly branches and dappled leaves exploding wildly from unseen stalks. crowded like children around their parents' legs. The three humans stood in shadowy darkness, but for a single shaft of intense light that defied the canopy's protection to splash the ground at their feet.

'We're here,' Tate whispered.

Julia rotated her head, saw nothing that would distinguish this spot from any other place in the jungle. As it was, she felt disoriented by the jungle's lack of a horizon or of landmarks that remained visible for longer than a few minutes. It didn't help that she had lost track of time, sensing the distance they had hiked only through her fatigued muscles.

'We will be going under much of the compound's perimeter security,' Tate reminded them, waving his hand vaguely in the air behind him, 'but I cannot be sure how much sound carries from the mine into the compound. I am always quiet.'

He looked intently at Julia, then Stephen. They nodded. He turned, seized a tall bush, and began shaking it. He wrestled with it until it tucked in on itself, revealing a gaping black hole. Julia realized with a start that they were standing at the base of a cliff, so dark and protected she had not seen it at all. The mine opening began about four feet above the ground and rose like a screaming mouth for six feet. Irregularly elliptic, with rounded edges, it looked more like a cave than something man-made.

Tate hoisted himself into that blackness and for a moment disappeared. He reemerged, as if from a pool of ink, to offer Julia his hand. She clicked on her flashlight and saw that the mine opened up as it moved into the mountain. Rotted timbers lay on the floor, among stones, dirt, filaments of abandoned spiderwebs, and animal droppings. Stephen fell in beside her, tugging at his own flashlight, which didn't want to leave his belt.

'This is as far as I go,' Tate whispered.

ninety

'The men need me,' Tate said. 'More important, I have

something with Rosa I'm not ready to give up yet.'

He was silhouetted in the mine's opening, hunched slightly but seeming agile and strong, ready to embark on an adventure he had already declined. Smoke swirled around his head, giving Julia the impression that it was he, not his cigar, that was burning.

'You do what you have to do,' she said. 'We appreciate what you've already done for us.'

He squatted and motioned for them to take positions near him. He flipped up the face of his watch, revealing a compass. He tore the Velcro strap away and handed the device to Stephen. Then he shrugged off the knapsack and gave that to him as well. Retreating back through the mine was their best bet, he explained, if they could get there undetected. He would mark the way back to the truck, where he'd wait as long as possible. If they were under heavy fire, he suggested stealing one of the compound's vehicles and plowing through the front gates.

'If worse comes to worst,' he continued, turning away to blow out a stream of smoke, 'run like madmen into the jungle. Head south-by-southwest. When you hit water, go downstream. Before then, though, you'll encounter an electric chain-link fence. Find a tree with an overhanging branch to get past it.' He thought for a moment. 'Oh, and if they do chase you into the jungle, do not use your gun.'

'Explain,' Julia said.

'Emilio's men used to snipe into the compound from the jungle. They'd take someone out, then fade into the jungle. Back again to kill again, then gone again. It makes the target area virtually useless and frazzles the enemy's nerves.'

'What happened?'

Tate took an angry draw on his stogie, then flicked the glowing stub into the sunlight. 'They installed these anti-sniper contraptions. One shot and these things shoot back—with lots of firepower. I called a friend of mine, still in SAS. He said they're probably Deadeyes. They monitor the perimeter of the compound, just waiting for some fool to fire a rifle or a pistol, any small arms.'

'And when someone does?'

'It's the last thing they ever do. These Deadeyes track the trajectory of the projectile, calculate it back to the point of origin, then make anything at that point of origin disappear—by way of heavy aircraft artillery—all within three seconds of the shot.'

Stephen exhaled heavily.

Julia shifted her weight, thinking. 'Does that mean anyone chasing us can't shoot either?'

'Not necessarily.' His words came laced with the ashy odor of tobacco. 'According to my mate, the Deadeyes can be programmed to monitor specific regions, so troops behind them can shoot toward an enemy without triggering the Deadeyes. Handheld remotes control them. They can be turned on and off and redirected instantly. Acoustic and electro-optical sensors identify muzzle-flash signatures, so grenades or firecrackers won't distract them. They're very sophisticated and very dangerous.'

Stephen asked, 'Didn't your friend wonder what this place was doing with these things?'

Tate shook his head. 'I know of an oil sheik with his own fully armed Harrier jet. A Colombian drug lord has a German Leopard tank, top of the line. None of this stuff is as regulated as civilians would like to think.'

Julia stood, feeling the weight of the Sig Sauer at the small of her back. 'Let's do it, then.'

Still crouching, Tate pointed with a chiseled arm. 'Go straight back. When you think you must have gone too far, keep going. You'll see the metal door I told you about first. Little farther, you'll find rungs on the left wall. They lead to a hatch inside the compound.' He described the surface topography radiating from the hatch: jungle behind, Quonsets before. He told what he knew of the surface guards, their number, stations, and routines. He gave directions to the stairs.

'Beyond that, you're on your own,' he finished.

'Uncharted territory,' Stephen said.

'Good lu—' He stopped, then gripped Stephen's shoulder firmly, shook his head. 'To hell with luck. God be with you.' He turned his eyes to her. 'Both of you.'

At that moment, Julia realized how intensely he wanted to join them, to go all the way and damn the torpedoes. He'd witnessed the mournful aftermath of countless abductions, attended the funerals of people who'd