“All right, Fred. Take us about two hundred yards north and then put us in a hover.”

The chopper sideslipped for a few seconds while Rapp gripped a handle on the fuselage to stabilize himself.

“That’s about two hundred yards, Mitch. Go!”

He and Coleman threw themselves from the aircraft, sliding fast down the ropes and crashing through the jungle canopy. There was no graceful way to get to the ground and they found themselves half climbing, half rappelling the last fifty or so feet.

“We’re clear, Fred!”

“Good luck,” he heard over his earpiece. “I’m out of here.”

They’d purposely set down in an area where the jungle was less dense, but the concept of less dense was relative in this part of the world. Both he and Coleman crouched and sighted through their thermal scopes, searching for any sign of life around them. For the moment, the only indication was the crack of intermittent gunfire.

“We’ve mopped up the stragglers,” Maslick said over Rapp’s earpiece. “Hanging thirty seconds out and waiting for your signal.”

“Roger that,” Rapp said, continuing to scan the empty jungle through his scope.

Another two minutes passed before he saw a glimmer of movement. “I’ve got one.”

“I see him,” Coleman confirmed.

It turned out to be not a single man, but a pair of them. One had his arm thrown over the shoulders of the other, stumbling and trying to contribute what little he could to their forward momentum.

“Lieutenant Grant. I’ve got eyes on your point man and the man he’s assisting,” Rapp said.

“That’s me,” came the response.

“Angle a few degrees to your right. Contact in less than one minute.”

Despite having warned him, Grant seemed a little startled when Rapp and Coleman melted from the jungle. The former SEAL took hold of the injured man and started north.

“Still six of you?” Rapp said.

“Yes,” the soldier responded, struggling to catch his breath. “But one more injured man near the back.”

“Okay. Keep going but slow the pace a little.”

“We’ll get bunched up.”

“It’s my party now, Lieutenant.”

It was hard to read his expression in what little light was able to filter to the jungle floor, but after a couple of seconds he responded. “Yes, sir. I guess it is.”

Rapp found a position next to a particularly thick tree, staying invisible while he counted the passing Americans. As Grant had predicted, the intervals between them were reducing. Not normally a good idea, but Rapp knew something they didn’t. Both he and Coleman had powerful infrared lights attached to their packs and aimed at the sky. The beams were invisible to the naked eye, but Joe Maslick and Bruno McGraw in the choppers weren’t using their naked eyes.