finding no one there, rang Maury's trailer.'
Maury shrugged apologetically. 'I'm sorry, Hugo. Probably I should have delivered it earlier, but you were in and out all day and I thought you would be in again soon -and then I forgot about it.'
Fitzduane read the message.
CALL ME SOONEST. R. O IS ALIVE. YAIBO ARE IN YOUR AREA. TAKE EVERY CARE. CHIFUNE
The number she had given bore a Fayetteville area code.
The blood drained from Fitzduane's face.
R.O.? Reiko Oshima! It was all beginning to make horrible sense.
He told Kilmara.
The General's face turned gray. He had come up against her in Ireland. She was the most dangerous terrorist he had ever encountered. Most of the time there was no longer any rationale as to why she killed. The act was an end in itself to her.
Fitzduane called the number.
'Fitzduane- san,' she said. The voice was the same, the formal address a barrier between them. Unbidden, the memory of her body came to him.
'I have an address,' she said. 'It is a Yaibo safe house. Your wife may be there. Go quickly.'
'How do you know?' he said. 'Chifune, how do you know?'
'I've had my people out,' she said. 'Now hurry, Fitzduane- san. There is very little time. Approach carefully but in force. Go quickly. They will move soon. I cannot stay.'
'Oshima?' said Fitzduane. 'Is she behind this?'
The phone was dead.
'Sheriff,' said Fitzduane, showing Jacklin the address. 'Where is this place?'
Jacklin checked the paper. 'About an hour away, I guess. Maybe more. It's outside my jurisdiction.'
'Sheriff,' said Fitzduane. 'Give me some people. I beg you. There's no time to clear this. Please.'
Jacklin thought quickly. 'I'll lay on a chopper. There will be a SWAT team waiting when you land.' He barked into his radio.
Eight minutes later, Fitzduane and his pilot were airborne.
Fitzduane's face was wet with tears. Dear God, he thought. Let us be in time.
Kathleen. Our baby.
Oshima! His heart turned to stone. It is you, I know it. I will find you if you're with the devil himself, and this time there will be no mistake. I will kill you.
He dried his cheeks and checked his weapons.
However long it takes, I will kill you. I swear it.
The helicopter swooped in to land in a clearing. The spot was wooded. Fitzduane had no sense of location. Jacklin had said the address sounded like a farm, which seemed to make sense.
'Colonel,' said the pilot. ' Semper Fi, sir.'
Fitzduane shook his head wordlessly as a rush of emotion gripped him.
A deserted shack had been selected as temporary headquarters. Marked and unmarked vehicles were parked around it. They entered. The room had been cleared and now housed a bank of communications equipment on trestle tables. Maps of the area were being pinned up.
'Colonel Fitzduane?' said a man in black combat fatigues. A submachine gun hung around his neck. 'Special Agent Hillgrove. FBI HRT out of Raleigh.'
'The house?'
'It's about four hundred meters up ahead,' said Hillgrove. 'Clapboard farmhouse, kinda run-down. A barn and some other outbuildings. A rusty tractor and no animals. Two cars parked outside, but no lights on inside the farm that we can see. The drapes are closed. And that's about all we know.'
'It's surrounded?' said Fitzduane.
'Yes, sir,' said Hillgrove. 'The state troopers have it sewn up every which way. We only got here ten minutes ago.'
'My wife?'
Hillgrove's face reflected compassion and caution. According to Sheriff Jacklin, the woman had been grabbed the previous afternoon and a helicopter had been involved. That suggested that she had already been flown out of the area. Still, you could never be certain.
He shook his head. 'We just don't know yet, sir. An electronic-surveillance team are moving into position now. They'll try and drill through and place a few miniature probes in position. But it will take some time. Best get some rest, sir.'
Fitzduane absorbed the news. He was exhausted, he knew, and still in shock. He was not thinking clearly. There was information he should pass on to the FBI man, but he could not think what it was. He felt dizzy.
'Glass of water, sir,' said Hillgrove, his voice concerned by distant. 'You'd better sit down.'
Fitzduane could feel his vision dimming, and there was a ringing in his ears. Someone took his arm and eased him onto a chair. He took the water with both hands and drank greedily. God, he was making all the classic errors. He was in shock, he had let himself get dehydrated, and he hadn't eaten. He was way overtired. He was personally involved.
He would have to get a grip. He closed his eyes. In the background he could hear the constant chatter of radio communications and the sound of footsteps as people walked to and for. The floor creaked.
Hillgrove seemed to know what he was doing, Fitzduane reflected sleepily. But there is something I should tell him. He dozed.
'Tac One,' said a voice in Hillgrove's earpiece.
'Roger, Five,' said Hillgrove.
'We're inserting now,' said Five. 'Should come up on video any second.'
Hillgrove had a mental picture of the surveillance team withdrawing their drill bits very slowly, careful to avoid the slightest sound, and inserting cameras and sound probes no bigger than the head of a matchstick.
He stared intently at the three video monitors. Any moment the first picture would come through. Whether there was light inside or not would make no difference except to the quality of the images. The miniature cameras had night-vision capability.
The first camera was coming on stream. The focus was slightly off and was adjusted.
'My God!' said a voice in absolute shock. 'What have they done to her? What's that stuff hanging out of her? Oh My God!'
The wide-angle lens distorted the image and the picture had the greenish negative quality of night vision, so flesh tones could not be seen.
Nonetheless, the content was clear.
The naked woman's arms had been tied to the rafters and her legs spread and tied apart.
Her throat had been slashed, and her body and the floor beneath her were black with blood.
She had been gutted.
The voice was a harsh whisper, a cry of hatred, pain, and the very depths of despair. The name was drawn out, a long sibilant sound.
'Oshimaaaaaa! Oshimaaaa!' whispered Fitzduane. 'That's how she kills.'
Hillgrove's mouth was dry. He swallowed. Fitzduane had woken and was staring intently at the monitor.
'Is it – do you recognize…?'
'I-I don't know,' he whispered. 'Her face. They've cut off her face.'
