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rimmed bullets. Muzzle has flash suppressor and recoil compensator for a level second shot. Uses a PSO-1 sight with times-four power. Accurate to twelve hundred yards, in the right pair of hands.”
    â€œIt is indeed as he says,” the tribesman said, nodding to the words Wade was able to remember. “Of course, such items are outlawed in these quarters. The pestilent Russian invaders have orders to shoot an armed man on sight unless he is a licensed private guard and on private grounds.”
    â€œTell him we’d be happy to take delivery after dark.”
    â€œThe veil of night covers many transactions,” the tribesman agreed when Wade was finished. “Would it be possible to ask what takes thee along such an uncertain course?”
    â€œWe seek to deliver medicines to a clinic in the hills,” Wade explained.
    The dark eyes turned blank. “One whose flag has a cross of blood upon a white surface?”
    â€œRed Cross, yes,” Wade said, his pulse surging. “Thou hast seen them?”
    â€œI have heard only,” the tribesman replied, his tone flat.
    â€œWe are concerned for their safety,” Wade pressed. “It has been too long since we had word from them.”
    â€œOf such things I know nothing,” the tribesman replied. “I am a simple trader only.”
    Wade turned to Robards and said disconsolately, “I think something’s happened at the clinic.”
    â€œHe tell you that?”
    Wade shook his head. “He just refused to talk about it, like he knows something but doesn’t want to say.”
    â€œWell, maybe you’re right,” Robards answered, not concerned by the prospect. “But worrying about it now won’t solve a thing. That news just makes it more important to get started.” He focused once more on the tribesman. “Tell him we’ll be back in touch about the goods.”
    The tribesman saw them off with the three-pointed hand signal of the devout—first to heart, then lips, then forehead. When they had rejoined the crowds jostling good-naturedly down the rutted way, Wade asked Robards, “How can you trust him?”
    â€œOnly way you can trust anybody once you’ve left civilization behind,” Robards replied, moving forward with deceptive speed. “By sleeping with one eye open and not ever trusting anybody completely. Come on, let’s go take a look at those trucks.”

2
    The storm raged so hard the night of her meeting with the infamous Colonel Mendez that Allison could feel the entire United States Consulate building shake on its foundation. But she had no time to worry about her own safety. Papers representing a dozen different crises were spread across her desk, all screaming a silent warning of the coup that was about to happen.
    Lightning blasted outside her window, illuminating the stark and frightened features of her two assistants. They stood helplessly, waiting for her to make her decisions and order them into action. But she could not focus. There was too much going on.
    The phone rang. She picked it up. It was her boss.
    â€œThere’s been a cable from Washington,” he reported. “Your budget has just been cut by fifty percent. And your mother wants to know why you haven’t called her in almost a month.”
    Allison struggled to keep her voice calm. She knew that it was important to remain calm in such circumstances. The examiners were always watching for the applicants who broke under pressure. “But I have a government to prop up here.”
    â€œYou’ll think of something,” her boss replied. “And call your mother.”
    As she hung up the receiver, another lightning blast split the night, illuminating scores of dark-clad men scurrying under the trees beyond the consulate compound. They were all headed her way. They carried weapons.
    â€œWhat do you want us to do?” her number one assistant whispered, fighting back