place to duck.
There was a series of round-topped ice formations three feet ahead.
They were about waist high and as thick as a highway pylon. They had probably once been much taller but looked as if they melted and refroze daily, gaining in girth what they lost in height. Rodgers did not run for them.
He dove.
Rodgers hit the ground hard. He lost his breath, his gloves fell from his teeth, and he did not quite reach the barricade.
But he got close enough so that he was able to scramble across the ice in a heartbeat. Fortunately, the heartbeat was still a measure of time he could use as bullets from Indian rifles chewed up the ice where he had been standing. As soon as he was down and safe he looked over at Ron Friday.
Crouched behind the slab, the operative gave him a thumbsup.
Rodgers glanced at the ledge. There was a large black casing behind the base of the dish. Rodgers was glad Friday knew what it was. He himself would have had to go up and pry the cover off to try to read the cables.
As the light of the grenade died Rodgers looked over at Sarnouel and Nanda. The Pakistani was still lying down. But he had turned to look back at the other men. Rodgers needed to get him over with Nanda and the cell phone. This was probably the best time to do it.
Rodgers took out his weapon and indicated to Friday to do the same.
Then he moved to the far side of the ice barricade.
That gave him the clearest line of sight to Samouel.
He held up three fingers. The Pakistani understood. He was to move out on a count of three. Rodgers gave the man a moment to prepare.
Samouel moved Nanda away from the boulder where they were lying. The Pakistani helped her to her knees and then to a crouching position. She seemed to be cooperating, aware of what she must do. Samouel looked toward Rodgers. The general quickly extended his fingers one at a time.
At three, Samouel got up and pulled Nanda with him. She was in front, the Pakistani shielding her with his body. As the two ran forward, Rodgers and Friday immediately stood and began firing toward the Indians. The infantrymen were out of range but obviously did not know that. They ducked down immediately, giving Samouel time to cover most of the distance to the silo entrance.
As darkness enveloped the clearing a few more shots were fired from the Indian side.
'Don't return fire!' Rodgers shouted to Friday.
The general was afraid of hitting Samouel and Nanda in the dark.
The men listened to the crunch of the approaching boots.
The gait was near but uneven. That was due, possibly, to the icy, unknown terrain. The sound skewed toward Rodgers's right, away from the silo. He crept to that side of his position and waited.
A few seconds later someone dropped beside Rodgers. The general reached out to pull whoever it was to safety. It was Nanda. Still on his knees, Rodgers wrapped his arms around her. He literally hauled her in and around him. Then Rodgers turned back to his right. He heard grunting a few feet away.
The general crept over. He found Samouel near the front of the barricade. The Pakistani was on his belly. Rodgers grabbed the man under his arms. His bare right hand felt a thick dampness. The general pulled Samouel back behind the stumps of ice.
'Samouel, can you hear me?' Rodgers said.
'Yes,' the Pakistani replied.
Rodgers felt around the man's left side. The dampness was spreading.
It was definitely blood.
'Samouel, you're wounded,' Rodgers said.
'I know,' Samouel said, 'General, I've 'screwed up.'
' 'No,' Rodgers said.
'You did fine. We'll fix this--'
'I don't mean that,' Samouel said.
'I ... lost the telephone.'
The words hit Rodgers like a bullet.
Suddenly, gunfire erupted from the left. The short burst had come from Ron Friday.
'Our buddies are on the move again!' Friday said.
'Get down!' the general shouted.
Rodgers had no time for them. He reached into his vest and removed one of the two cylindrical 'eight ball' grenades he carried. Those were the ones no one wanted to find themselves behind, the shrapnel-producing grenades. Without hesitation the general yanked the pin, let the no-snag cap pop off, and stiff-armed the explosive across the clearing. He did not want to kill the Indians but he could not afford to waste time. Not with Samouel injured.
Rodgers ducked and pulled Nanda down. Several seconds later the eight ball exploded, echoing off the walls and shaking the ground. Even before the reverberations stopped, Rodgers had pulled the nine-inch knife from his
