"There are ground personnel on the way," the speaker said. "You are advised to remain where you are."

"And if I don't?" she said under her breath. "What are they going to do?"

She scanned the road ahead. About two miles off it started a sinuous course into the mountains, and it would be difficult for cars to chase or the chopper to follow.

To hell with them, she thought and, flooring the gas pedal, the BMW screamed out from under the helicopter toward the blue-gray peaks beyond.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

Wednesday, 6:05 P.M., Op-Center

Hood was in his office with Ann Farris and Lowell Coffey, debating about how to handle news of the Striker incursion in case the team was captured or killed. The White House would disavow the operation, as the President had said, and SOP was that Op-Center would do the same. But Ann felt there were some PR brownie points to be gained by letting the world know that they had been looking out for the well-being of Japan, and while Hood agreed she had a point, he was disinclined to go along with the idea.

When Bugs told Hood that General Schneider was calling with urgent news from Panmunjom, the debate came to a swift end.

"Hood here."

"Mr. Director," General Schneider said, "I regret to inform you that your man Gregory Donald appears to have been shot to death by the Dee-Perks on their side of the border just a few minutes ago."

Hood's face paled. "General, they invited him to come over--"

"This wasn't that meeting. He wasn't in the meeting center."

"Then where was he?"

"He was running toward the barracks with a knife."

"Gregory was? Are you sure?"

"That's what the watch officer's putting in his report. And that he was screaming in Korean about the poison gas."

"Sweet Jesus." Hood shut his eyes. "That's what it was. Gregory, Jesus why didn't he let the military handle it?"

"Paul," Ann said, "what happened?"

"Gregory Donald's dead. He was trying to stop the gas." He returned to Schneider. "General, Major Lee must have snuck the gas into the North-- Gregory was probably following him."

"That's what we figure, but it was a damn foolish thing to do. He had to know those troops would shoot on sight."

It wasn't foolish, Hood knew. It was Donald's way. "What's the present situation?"

"Our lookouts say the soldiers appear to have shot someone who may have been trying to flood the barracks with the tabun. As I just told Secretary Colon, they're running around like headless chickens over there. One of our towers is watching General Hong-koo. He's just sitting at their side of the conference hut in a jeep waiting for we don't know what. He's got to know Donald isn't coming."

"He might not know that it was Donald who was killed."

The words sounded so wrong. Hood looked at Ann for support, saw only the same sadness that he felt.

"He'll find out soon enough. Our problem is this. The Pentagon has contacted Pyongyang and they don't believe that Lee and his team were acting alone; they think it's part of a plot hatched in Seoul. You can't reason with those pricks."