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Falah laid his guns down. He put his arms around the American's waist and held him back. "Wait!" he cried. "Wait! Something is not right--"

Katzen pressed his forehead to the dry earth. "They killed her. Shot her without a thought!" He pounded his fists slowly on either side.

"I don't think so," Falah said. "Shhh I think I hear her."

Katzen quieted. He heard the grinding of gears as the ROC drove off. Then he heard whimpering from the ledge. "Mary Rose?" Katzen wondered aloud. Other than the sobbing, there was absolute silence. Katzen glanced over at Falah. "If she's alive, something must have happened to the man who was going to shoot her."

"That is true," Falah said. He retrieved his guns. "It was probably his blood we saw."

"But how?" Katzen asked. "I don't see how any of the other prisoners could have escaped. There were iron grates on those pits."

"No one escaped," said Falah. "If they had there would be shouts, running around. Just the opposite has happened. No one is moving." He looked off to the south. He squinted. "If it was the Kurd who was shot, he had to have been picked off. I shut down the radio an hour ago. That would have enough time for a quick 'go' decision and rapid-deployment ingress."

Striker, Katzen thought. He followed Falah's gaze.

Before Katzen could scan the trees for movement, someone shouted from above. He was yelling in English, threatening to kill three hostages.

"He's not talking to us," Falah said. "Someone sniped the killer. He's talking to them."

"If that's true," Katzensaid, "the ROC may spot whoever's out there."

"We can't even take the ROC out," Falah said. "It seems the Kurds have moved it." He climbed over Katzen and handed him one of the guns. "You stay here. I'm going to try and find them, warn--"

Before he could move farther, there was a faint pop and then a whistle from the southeast. Katzen looked up as a small, black projectile rocketed toward the cave. Another came seconds later, followed by a third. They exploded in rapid succession, sending out thick copper-colored clouds.

"Neo-phosgene!" Katzen said.

"What?" Falah asked.

"A new lung agent," Katzen said. "It induces asthma-like effects for about five minutes. Striker's the only team that has it."

At full dispersion the gas seemed to freeze, like cotton. Within moments the liquid content evaporated and the remaining vapor sunk to the ground in a thick pancake. The edges of the pancake crept toward the edge of the slope and spilled over. The men watched as Mary Rose fell forward. Her torso dopped over the ledge and she lay there gasping for breath.

"Come on," Katzen said. "The cloud itself will turn white and non-toxic in about two minutes. We may be able to get our people out before the Kurds recover."

"No," Falah said. "You stay here. Your broken ribs will slow us both down."

"Horseshit," Katzen said. "I'll look after Mary Rose, but I'm coming up."

Falah agreed, and began clawing up the slope. His speed and dexterity momentarily took Katzen aback. Being out of the field so much these days, he sometimes forgot the breathtaking skill with which indigenous people maneuvered in their native terrain.

Stretching out his leg on the side with the broken rib, Katzen tried to immobilize that side as much as possible. Tucking the gun in his belt, he began crawling up. All the while he cast looks above, to the south, and below. Despite being out of the field, he didn't forget the swiftness and surprise with which Striker struck. If neophosgene gave them a five-minute window to get in and wrap things up, they'd be here with everything wrapped up in five minutes or less.

As he was looking south, Katzen heard footsteps on the road above. He looked up. Falah was still climbing and the gas was still brownish, still potent. He couldn't see the road itself, but he saw the edges of the cloud swirl as though people were moving through it. Then someone appeared beside Mary Rose. He was wearing a camouflage uniform and a gas mask. He knelt beside