Diaz's round hit the Taliban insurgent squarely in the chest, and it appeared as though he had swallowed a grenade. The RPG he'd been shouldering hurtled away like a boomerang, trailed by what was left of him.

People often asked if the grim nature of her job ever got to her. They'd ask about how the military prepares you for killing people. She didn't talk about that. She just did her job like she'd been taught. She removed targets and did everything she could to detach herself from the emotions. She thought of the operators to her left and right, her friends. She ignored the fact that the men she killed could have families they'd be leaving behind.

But was it possible to kill with no guilt, no remorse? Maybe for some.

It was Diaz's subconscious that got the best of her. There were always demons who rose from the bogs of night and marched through her quarters, dripping blood and growling that they'd returned for revenge.

She'd bolt awake, chilled and soaked in sweat. But she knew that this came with the territory. Adapt and move on, she always said.

Diaz probed the mountain once more, spotted a second guy lifting his RPG.

At the same time, Ramirez reported that he and Brown were nearly at the chopper with the two CIA guys. That was good, but if Diaz didn't tag this next guy . . .

As she homed in, the din of gunfire and helicopter engines narrowed into her breathing, only her breathing, as though she wore scuba gear and was back at the reef in Cozumel.

Right now, as far as she was concerned, there were only two people in the entire world, and she would reduce that number by exactly one.

The reticle hovered over the guy. He wore a heavy woolen pakol pulled down over his ears. He was turning toward the Black Hawk when Diaz took her shot.

At the very least she anticipated a puff of smoke from his chest, perhaps a small amount of blood.

Nothing. She had missed.

What the hell?

Carlos and Tomas screamed with glee in her ears.

A cold panic rushed up Diaz's spine as she resighted the man and fired, but it was already too late. Yes, he died, but his RPG was already airborne.

Ramirez glanced away and grimaced as Agent Vick, who was seated in the snow next to his partner Saenz, finished coughing and puking.

"Glad you came back," said Saenz. "We know where we stand with your captain."

"We evac the most seriously wounded first," Ramirez said through his teeth.

Saenz grinned and snorted. "Whatever you say, soldier." He regarded Vick. "Look at him. All this running around and the drugs . . . we're getting sick."

"And you're getting out of here," Brown said, hauling Saenz to his feet.