The two of them walked over to where the militiaman lay kicking and thrashing about in pain. She looked at Nathan, then down at the man. Nathan had done a good job on the militiaman. All three of his shots had found their mark just below the man’s heart. In the headlights of the Humvee parked behind them, she could see the bloody froth gurgling up every time the man drew breath. He had a sucking chest wound. Without expert assistance, he would soon die as blood filled his lungs and he drowned in his own blood.

Nancy looked around. To leave him would be cruel. To take him even crueler. Yet to drop him off at a medical facility would jeopardize their enterprise. Never one to turn her back and walk away without doing something, Nancy made her decision. Without a word she aimed her pistol at the wounded man’s head and squeezed off two rounds. When the twitching stopped, Nancy looked over at Nathan. Standing across from her the airborne officer stared at the body for several seconds before he slowly lifted his gaze and met her cold eyes. “War is hell and life’s a bitch, Lieutenant,” she explained. “Learn to live with it or find yourself a new vocation.”

Without another word, Nancy flipped the safety on her pistol, slipped the warm weapon into its holster and walked to where Jan was still standing. “I don’t suppose you have your camera and the equipment you need to broadcast live with you, do you?”

Jan, shaken by the execution she had just witnessed, shook her head. “No.”

Nancy sighed. “Well, I’m not going back to recover yours. That wouldn’t be smart. Do you know another news team you can trust who would be willing to take a chance to do something important?”

Tearing her eyes away from the body lying on the road, Jan thought for a moment as she gathered her wits. “Yes, I do. Sam Anderson. He owes me big time.”

“Do you know his phone and room number?” Nancy asked quickly.

“Yes I do. He’s out by the airport.”

“Good.” By now Nathan had returned to his colonel’s side. “I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about. Hop in the back seat of the Humvee, Mrs. Dixon, and go with us. We’ll find a phone that you can call your Sam Anderson on. I’ll have the van follow us. We can always use another vehicle.”

Nathan looked at his shaken mother, then at Nancy. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to have my mom go with us, Colonel,” he stated.

Surprised, Nancy looked at the young officer. “And why not, Lieutenant?”

“Well,” Nathan explained with a straight face, “my mom always gets nervous as hell and screams a lot when I drive.”