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as the clattering hammer of heavy-caliber bullets ripped into the place where
    he had been standing. Saxon rolled, hearing the deep report of the Diamondback as Duarte fired after the drone. The aircraft's engine note
    throbbed and changed as it went up into a stall turn and came about.

    "The trees," Saxon shouted, working a dial on the grenade launcher."Get to the trees. We stay in the open, we'll be cut to shreds!"

    Duarte didn't reply; he just ran, as best he could, half-staggering, half-falling. Saxon looked up, finding the drone as it came hunting once more.
    He pulled the G-87 to his shoulder, almost aiming straight up, and squeezed the trigger. With a hollow grunt, the weapon discharged a shell in
    an upward arc. The dial set the grenade fuse for a half second, but even as the drone passed over him, Saxon knew he had misjudged the shot.
    The shell exploded and the robot flyer bucked from the near hit, but maintained its dive.

    His blood ran cold as the aircraft put on a burst of speed and fell toward Duarte, like a cheetah zeroing in on a wounded gazelle. "Sam!"

    The soldier twisted and raised the revolver, the bright stab of discharge from the muzzle flaring in the low-light optics. The heavy cannon, slung
    in a conformal pod along the length of the drone's ventral fuselage, opened up with a sound like a jackhammer—and Sam Duarte was torn apart
    in a puff of white.

    "Bastard!" Saxon rose from cover, screaming his fury at the machine as it looped and turned inbound once more, preparing to finish the job at
    hand. He broke out and ran as fast as he could toward the steeper slope where the trees were denser, the grenade launcher bouncing against
    his chest, his every breath a ragged, gasping effort. The cannon started up again as he reached the perimeter of the tree line, and Saxon turned
    as he ran, mashing the trigger. The remaining three rounds in the magazine chugged into the air one after another, exploding barely a
    heartbeat apart at a height just above the canopy. The drone's delicate sensors were blinded by the flashes and the scattering of shrapnel, and
    it lost its target. The flyer drifted off course and clipped a tall tree; in seconds it was spinning and coming apart, shredding into a new firestorm
    of burning metal. The detonation sent Saxon sprawling and he lost his footing. The soldier slipped over the lip of the hill and tumbled headfirst down the steep,

    crumbling face, bouncing hard. Unable to arrest his descent, he fell pinwheeling over the edge and into the muddy waters of the creek below.

    Washington Hospital Center—Washington, D. C.—United States of America

    Sensation returned to her by degrees, assembling itself piece by piece, line by line. She had the sense of being in a bed, the cotton sheets
    pressing against her legs, the prickly feel of the mattress cloth beneath. Her lips were cold and dry, a steady breath of oxygen flowing from a
    plastic mask resting on her face. Anna felt worn and old, broken and twisted. Her body seemed dislocated from her; she expected pain. Why
    wasn't there any pain?

    With difficulty, she turned her head on the pillow beneath it and felt warmth on her face. Licking her lips, she tried to speak, but all that
    emerged was a hollow gasp. It was dark all around her, a strange dimensionless void that she couldn't grasp.

    Then footsteps, people nearby. A voice. "Anna? Can you hear me?"

    "Yes."

    "Okay, just lie still. You're in the hospital. Try not to move."

    The oxygen mask was pulled away and she licked her lips. "Why ... is it dark?"

    "Okay, nurse, thank you." Someone else coughed and she heard the familiar shuffle of expensive Italian loafers, a door closing. "Hey, Anna. It's
    me, Ron. I'm here with Hank Bradley from Division. Just take it easy."

    "Ron?" Agent-in-Charge Ronald Temple was Kelso's supervisor, a decent guy with a long career in the Secret Service. She hadn't expected to
    hear him. "What's wrong?"

    "Agent Kelso ..." The next voice was