Four Blind Mice

head. Odd facts. They had supposedly killed fifty-five VC for every Ranger in the war. That was the story anyway. And they took care of their own. In the Vietnam War only one Ranger was listed MIA. All the others were accounted for, every single one.
    Maybe they had gone, fled from the woods, but I doubted it. Why would they leave me here alive?
They wouldn’t. . . . Starkey wouldn’t allow it.
    I felt guilty that I’d left Sampson, but I wouldn’t let myself dwell on it. I couldn’t think about him. Not now. Later. If there was a later.
    When we see them, we open up.
    No warnings, Alex.
    Do you understand what I’m saying?
    I moved again, circling to the northeast, I figured. Were they moving on me too?
    I stopped.
    New position.
    I waited there some more. Every minute seemed like ten. Then I saw something move.
Jesus! What the hell?
It was a bobcat, eating its own droppings. Maybe twenty, twenty-five yards away. Unconcerned with me. In its own world.
    I heard someone coming, and he was very fucking close.
    How had he gotten so close without my hearing him before?
    Shit, he was right on top of me!

Chapter 98
    HAD HE HEARD me too?
    Did he know I was right there, a few feet away?
    I didn’t dare breathe. Or even blink my eyes.
    He moved again.
    Very slow, very careful, a professional soldier. No, a professional killer. There was a big difference. Or was there?
    I didn’t move an inch.
    Patience.
    No prisoners.
    He was close — almost to the hollow I was lying in. He was coming for me. He had to know my position.
    Which one of them was it? Starkey? Griffin? Harris — whom I had avoided crashing into during a softball game? Was he going to kill me now? Or would I kill him?
    Somebody was going to die in less than a minute.
    Who could it be?
    Who was up there over my head?
    I shifted my body so I’d see him the instant he came over the edge. Was that what he would do? What were his instincts? He’d done this kind of tracking before. I hadn’t. Not in the woods. And not in a war zone.
    He moved again. Inches at a time.
    Where the hell was he going? He was just about on top of me.
    I watched the uneven ridge of the hollow and held my breath. Tried not to blink. I felt the sweat streaming through my hair and down the back of my neck, down my back. An incredible cold sweat. The buzzing in my ears was back.
    Someone rolled over the edge.
    Brownley Harris. His eyes widened when he saw me waiting there for him. My gun aimed at his face.
    I fired just one shot.
Boom.
Then there was a dark hole where his nose had been an instant before. Blood spurted from the center of his face. His M-16 dropped from his hands.
    “No warnings,” I whispered as I took the rifle. Were the others close behind him? I waited for them. Ready as I’d ever be for a shootout.
    Sergeant Warren Griffin.
    Colonel Thomas Starkey.
    The woods were eerie. Silent again. I scuttled away under the cover of darkness.

Chapter 99
    A THREE-QUARTER MOON was out, and that was both good and bad news. I was sure they would come for me now. It seemed logical, but was my logic the same as theirs?
    I was back close to my original position in the woods. I thought so anyway.
    Then I was
certain
.
    My eyes teared involuntarily. I saw Sampson, lying still, right where he’d been shot. I could see the body clearly in the moonlight. And I started to shake. What had happened was finally hitting me with its full force. I swiped at my eyes. A fist seemed to clench my heart and hold it tight, wouldn’t let go.
    I could see the dead women lying in the dirt road. Flies were buzzing around the bodies. An owl hooted from a nearby tree. I shuddered. In the morning perhaps a hawk or turkey vultures would come to feed on the bodies.
    I slipped on the night goggles I’d brought with me. I hoped they would give me an advantage. Maybe not, probably not. Starkey and Griffin would have the best too. They worked for a company that manufactured high-tech equipment, didn’t they?
    I kept reminding myself that I’d taken out Brownley Harris. It gave me some confidence. He’d looked utterly surprised to see me. Now he was dead, his arrogance gone, exploded in an instant by a bullet.
    But how could I surprise Starkey and Griffin? They must have heard the shot. Maybe they thought it came from Harris. No, they had to know he was dead.
    For a couple of minutes, I considered a flat-out run. Maybe I could get to the road. I doubted it, though. More likely I’d be shot down