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"How?"

Katzen shut his eyes as Rodgers howled louder than before. It was only a short cry because the general bit it off. But it tore through Katzen's bowels. After a moment, he leaned closer to Coffey.

"When the ROC is turned on, when it's completely on, the locator will go on too," Katzen said. "Op-Center is sure to locate it. When they do, the military will blow the hell out of it and the terrorists with it. It won't be used against anyone."

"Wait a minute. Are you suggesting we help these people?"

"They're burning Mike alive," Katzen said, "and God knows what they'll do to Sondra. By taking some kind of initiative we have a chance of living. Or at least dying with dignity."

"Helping these bastards isn't dying with dignity," Coffey said. "It's treason."

"To what?" Katzen asked. "A rule book?"

"To your country," Coffey said. "Phil, don't do this."

Katzen turned his back on Coffey. He reached up and wrapped his fingers around the grate. Coffey came around to face him.

"I've fallen way short of my potential in a lot of ways," Coffey said. "I can't now. I couldn't live with myself."

"This isn't your doing," Katzen said. He pulled himself up so that his mouth was pressed against the cool iron. "Stop it out there!" he yelled. "Come get me! I'll tell you what you want to know!"

Silence fell in pieces. First Pupshaw, then the hiss of the burner, then Rodgers and DeVonne. It was broken as footsteps crunched on the dirt. Someone shined a flashlight down at Katzen. The environmentalist dropped back down to the bottom of the pit.

"You've decided to speak?" asked a deep voice.

"Yes," Katzen said. "I have."

Coffey turned away from him and sat back down.

"What is your group?" the deep voice demanded.

"Most of these people are enviromental researchers," Katzen said. He shielded his eyes against the bright light. "They were here studying the effects of dambuilding on the ecosystem of the Euphrates. The man you're torturing is a mechanic, not anyone's 'superior officer.' I'm the one you want."

"Why? Who are you?"

"I'm a United States intelligence officer. The Turkish colonel and I came along to use some of the equipment in the van to spy on Ankara and Damascus."

The man above was silent for a moment. "The man beside you. What is his specialty?"

"He's an attorney," Katzen said. "He came along to make sure we didn't break any international laws."

"The woman we have out here," said the man. "You say that she's a scientist?"

"Yes," said Katzen. He prayed to God that the man believed him.

"What is her specialty?"

"Culture media," Sondra said. "Gelatinous substances containing nutrients in which microorganisms or tissues are cultivated for scientific research. My father holds patents in those areas. I worked with him."

The man switched off the flashlight. He said something in Arabic. A moment later the grate was lifted. Katzen was pulled out at gunpoint. He stood before a dark-skinned man with a scar across his face. To the left, from the corner of his eye, he could see Rodgers hanging from his wrists. Sondra was tied to the wall on the right.

"I don't believe that you are environmentalists," said the commander. "But it's no matter if you're willing to show us how to work the equipment."

"I am," said Katzen.

"Tell him nothing!" Rodgers gasped.

Katzen looked directly at Rodgers. His legs weakened as he saw the general's mouth, which was still contorted with pain. As he looked at the dark, glistening areas of burned flesh.

Rodgers spat blood. "Stand where you are! We don't take orders from foreign leaders!"

The dark-skinned man spun. He swung a fist hard at Rodgers's jaw. The blow connected audibly and snapped the general's head back. "You take orders from a foreign leader when you're the guest of that leader," the man said. He turned back to Katzen. His mood was less amiable now. "Whether you live depends only on whether I like what you show me."

Katzen looked at Rodgers. "I'm sorry," he said. "Your lives are more