spacing, aperture, and focus of the eyepieces to give him nearly perfect stereoscopic vision.
Unbelievable, he thought to himself, amazed at the degree of improvement in the latest generation of night- vision equipment. Unlike with the second-and third-generation light-magnifying tubes Lightstone was familiar with, the flow of light green images in these new goggles appeared multi-contrasted and almost razor-sharp.
Pretending to master the technology, Lightstone rotated his body in a 180-degree arc. In doing so, he observed two other members of Sergeant Aran Wintersole's training team standing in the trees about twenty yards away from the main group.
A chill went up his spine when he realized that both of these men carried night-vision-scoped bolt-action rifles — very much in contrast to the five trainers grouped around him who all wore standard military-issue Beretta 9mm semiautomatic pistols. In addition, all of the men wore military camouflaged flak jackets with a bullet- deflecting breastplate insert. A half dozen canister grenades dangled from rings on each side of the breastplate on Wintersole's and two of the other soldiers' jackets, and all three carried what looked like a roll of duct tape attached to a loop at waist level opposite their pistol holsters. The other two instructors carried a roll of tape, but no grenades.
Two plus five equals seven, Lightstone told himself. The same number of soldiers he'd seen conducting the surveillance of Charlie Team, all present and accounted for.
In spite of the chilling sight of the two night-vision-equipped snipers partially concealed in the nearby woods, Lightstone felt relieved. That meant that if Charlie Team wasn't the focused target of this supposed night training exercise, they wouldn't be wandering around the perimeter of the nearby Windgate National Wildlife Refuge in the dark and under active surveillance by a bunch of lethally trained combat troops… unless, of course, Lightstone reminded himself, the retired Army Ranger first sergeant had held some of his resources in reserve.
But in any case, Charlie Team wouldn't be out there alone. Whether they liked it or not, Lightstone smiled, the more experienced, manipulative, and treacherous members of Bravo Team would cover them on the perimeter, once again ready to do whatever it took to win.
Not that we'll be much help if things don't go our way, the covert agent's smile faded as he returned his attention to his injured companion.
'Feel comfortable?' the young soldier inquired.
'Just fine,' Lightstone acknowledged.
'How do you like them?'
'Pretty amazing.' Lightstone put just the right amount of wonder in his voice. 'I feel like I'm walking around in some kind of green daylight.'
'That's exactly the idea.' The young soldier laughed. 'The earphones are separate from the goggles, so if you ever have to take the goggles off, you'll stay linked to the rest of us. Your collar mike's an auto-sensor, so just talk and listen. Try not to interrupt someone else, unless it's an emergency. Everything clear?'
Henry nodded.
'Good.' The young soldier removed something from the box behind him. 'Here, let me help you put this on.'
'What is it?'
'Flak jacket. Basically an armored vest.'
'What the hell do I need an armored vest for?' Lightstone asked as the young soldier secured the wide Velcro straps tightly around his shoulders, chest, and waist.
'Didn't the sergeant tell you?'
'Tell me what?' Lightstone wheeled to face Wintersole who, to Lightstone's amazement, actually appeared less menacing with the binocular night-sights over his cold pale gray eyes.
'Just to make it a little more interesting for our side, our opponents are going to be firing live rounds tonight.'
'What?'
'Don't worry about it.' Wintersole noted then casually dismissed Lightstone's reaction. 'They have pop-up reflector targets — which they can hardly hit in the daylight when they're twenty feet away — to aim at. And they'll be stumbling in the woods, about 90 percent blind, even before the first flash-bang goes off. Just stay low, maintain your cool, keep your goggles on, and you'll be fine. Probably'll have a better chance of getting taken out by a falling meteor.'
'Yeah, right.' Henry Lightstone shook his head in amazement. 'What the hell's a flash-bang?'
'These little gems here.' Wintersole reached forward with both hands and tapped the underside of the two grenades that hung from Lightstone's flak jacket like a pair of small firm breasts. 'They're basically stun grenades, but they generate an extremely bright flash in addition to the concussion. You ever throw a hand grenade?'
'I've seen it done in the movies,' Lightstone responded dryly.
Wintersole chuckled. 'Same basic process. But if you do your job right — move in close, take them down one at a time, disarm them, and then tape them up tight — you won't need any grenades. But, in case you get caught out in the open, just slip the grenade off your vest, hold the lever with two fingers of your throwing hand like this' — he demonstrated with a grenade from his own vest — 'pull the pin with your other hand, and throw.'
'Wonderful,' Lightstone muttered.
'Just remember,' Wintersole warned him, 'you've only got about two and a half seconds after the lever kicks out before it goes off, so try to aim for something thirty feet away — or at the very least, get behind a big tree after you throw it. Otherwise, you end up on your ass with your clock rung. And don't look directly at the flash. These fourth-generation tubes aren't supposed to flare out if they get too much light, but there's no sense in taking a chance.'
Wintersole looked around at his team.
'One more thing. I was just advised that the Brigade leaders authorized one of their women to take part in the exercise tonight. I don't want her hurt, so I figure we'll leave her to our martial-arts expert.'
'Watch out for your balls, man,' one of the soldiers chuckled, and immediately froze when Wintersole glared at him sharply.
'Any more questions?' the eerie team leader inquired.
'Yeah, several,' Lightstone replied evenly.
'Then come with me,' Wintersole ordered as the rest of the team dispersed into the woods. 'I'll see if I can properly educate you before your students show up.'
Forty-five minutes later, settled into a concealed position on the outer perimeter of the designated contact zone, Henry Lightstone saw the first sign of movement.
Fifteen minutes later, feeling both relieved and increasingly uneasy, he had all of them spotted but one.
Riley and Green in place on the far side. Wu on the near side. Which means it's going to be Donato and LiBrandi on the hunt. He moved his head slowly in a 270-degree sweep, searching the entire outer perimeter of the contact zone one more time. No more bodies. And no movement.
So where's the wildcat?
He began another slow sweep knowing full well that Riley wouldn't let his most volatile and unpredictable agent get too far out of his sight, but then two bright red flashes at the edge of his vision suddenly brought his head back to the designated contact point.
He immediately spotted Special Agents Gus Donato and Mark LiBrandi standing in the clearing, each of them holding a bolt-action hunting rifle and a flashlight.
Moments later, a second pair of red flashes emerged from the light in Donato's hand, and an identical pair of flashes immediately answered from the far edge of the clearing.
As Lightstone watched, two figures wearing military flak jackets — sans grenades — entered the clearing carrying flashlights that now emitted steady, bobbing bright red beams within the light green world of the night- vision goggles. The four men stood together talking for perhaps thirty seconds when the familiar voice of First Sergeant Aran Wintersole whispered in Lightstone's earphones:
'Okay, take them down, now!'
Lightstone had only a brief moment to see the four distant figures suddenly become two paired sets of grappling combatants when three intensely bright green explosions erupted within the perimeter zone, sending three bodies tumbling. He had just started to come up to his knees, and out of his concealed position, when the first gunshot streaked over his head.
