Alistair extracted a cigarette from the package of Lucky Strikes that was never far from hand and spun a flame to it from his lighter. “It would be hard to live with the deaths of these particular kids, Bill. Not a one that isn’t special. I mean really, really special.”

“Anybody who willingly risks his life for his country is really, really special, Major, and that attitude can get you and those kids killed,” Wild Bill said. “Maybe I ought to pull you from this one.”

“The hell you will. I’m the captain of this ship. If those kids have a chance of making it back, I’m it, and you know it.”

Bill Donovan nodded reluctant agreement and set down his glass. “I have to go,” he said, uncrossing his legs. “I am meeting with the president in an hour. Thank God for air-conditioning in the Oval Office. Eat some peanuts, Alistair. You look like a politician’s hot air could blow you over. And stop worrying. What’s done is done. The rest we leave to Providence. I’ll see you off at the airfield in the morning. What time?”

“Four o’clock.”

“Until then,” the director said and patted Alistair’s shoulder as he left. “Lay off the coffee and cigarettes and get some sleep, buddy.”

As if that were possible, Alistair thought. He took a draw of the cigarette and squinted at his sketch through the stream of expelled smoke. Brad Hudson had suggested Dragonfly to the group as the code name for the team. He’d told them of watching bass leap from the water to snag a hovering dragonfly only to have it dart away before it could become dinner. “They’re almost impossible to snare and have no blind spots,” he’d explained. “Their eyes wrap around their heads like a football helmet to give them a three-hundred-sixty-degree view. Most insects, predators can attack from underneath and behind. Those are their vulnerable areas. Dragonflies don’t have them.”

“That may be so, but dragonflies are also big, making them easy to spot,” Alistair had countered. “All you need is a good pair of field glasses.”

The son of Joanna Bukowski Hudson had flashed his father’s smile at Alistair. “Easy to spot but not to catch. They’re natural escape artists.”