“I treat you better than you deserve,” Masenak said grimly. His gaze raked Baldwin from head to boots. “You’re filthy and you stink, and you’ve caused me more trouble than you’re worth.” He turned to Sergeant Rosaro, standing next to him. “He’s in good shape? No sign of damage or abuse?”

“No bruises. He seems fine. Except he’s so drunk he’s having trouble standing up. He came weaving into our camp calling your name and saying he’d made you pay, but now he was ready to forgive you.”

And that was humiliating in itself, Masenak thought angrily. Dangling their relationship before his men and making him seem weak. Rosaro wasn’t even meeting his eyes now. “Forgive me?” he hissed. “I’ll roast that bastard over a fire like a—”

The earth shook and threw Masenak to the ground!

He was stunned for an instant and then he saw the flames billowing from the infantry quarters of the main camp. Before he recovered, another explosion hit the camp!

Attack. He was being attacked! A bomb of some sort. A drone? CIA? It didn’t matter. He’d kill them all. He’d show them they couldn’t do this to him.

He was reaching for his detonator as he jumped to his feet. He pressed the remote explosives switch.

Nothing. He pressed it again.

Nothing.

He didn’t understand. This shouldn’t have happened. The attack on the main camp had come out of nowhere and been too smooth, too focused.

And someone had known about the remote detonator and taken care of deactivating it. That meant they might know about the helicopter and where he was at this very moment.

Son of a bitch, he could be the next target! He had to get the hell out of here.

He started to run.

*  *  *

1:48 A.M.

Another explosion!

Sasha had thought there were only going to be the two, but she wasn’t about to question it. It was only important that by pressing that signal jammer she had kept this prisoner tent from going up in flames.

But the girls were screaming and starting to move around. It might be only a moment before the guards ran in here and saw that she’d managed to free them.

She stiffened as the door to the guardroom flew open.

But it was Alisa who stood in the doorway, her gaze wildly searching the crowd of students. “Sasha!”

“Here!” She was pushing her way through the girls to get to her. “I thought you might be the guards.” Now she could see that Alisa was surrounded by a dozen or so men dressed in the same camouflage she wore. They were already streaming forward and starting to shepherd the students out of the tent. “What happened to the guards?”