The dying did not pause to salute the proud flag of Colorado or Texas but screamed about his wound or cried for a loved one a world away. Fear for himself and his friends made it impossible for August ever to feel anything but unadorned gratification whenever his patrol returned to base.

At the moment, August was driven by just one force: the battle-seasoned resolve of a professional soldier. Even his survival instinct was not that strong. Most of his unit were dead. Living with that loss was going to be difficult. He wondered, unhappily, if that was why William Barrett Travis had reportedly charged the Mexican army single-handedly at the onset of the battle for the Alamo. Not due to courage but to spare himself the pain of having to watch his command fall.

August decided this was not the time to think of hopeless charges. He needed to be in the here-and-now and he needed to win.

Poised behind a jagged-edged boulder twice his size, August watched the narrow, curving ledge just ahead. His visibility was only about fifty yards due to the sharp turn in the ledge. Soon darkness would be a problem. The sun was nearly down and he would have to put on his night-vision goggles. He wanted to wait in order to save the batteries.

They might be forced to fight the Indian skirmish line before night's end.

Musicant was behind an even larger boulder. It was situated twenty-odd yards to August's left. Between them the Strikers could set up a crossfire between the end of the ledge and the plateau. No one would be able to get through without identifying themselves and being disarmed, if necessary.

To August's right was the TAC-SAT. He had switched the phone from audio to visual signal in order to maintain a position of silent-standing. The visual signal was on dim. If it shined, the light would not be seen from the other side of the boulder.

A steady wind blew from behind the men. It raised fine particles of ice from the plateau and swept them from the peaks. The icy mist rose in sharp arcs and wide circles, flying high enough to glimmer in the last light of the sun before dropping back to the dark stone. August was glad to see the airborne eddies. They would limit the visibility of anyone coming along the ledge.

August was crouched against the cold stone when the TAC-SAT flashed. He snatched the receiver without taking his eyes from the ledge.

"Yes!" he shouted. He had to press a hand against his hood to shut his open ear.

"Brett, it's Bob. Anything?"

"Not yet," August replied.

"What about with you?"

"We need you to radio Mike," Herbert said.

"We think a splinter cell might be headed toward the Siachin Glacier.

Viens is looking for them. In the meantime, Paul wants Mike to head up there."

"That's a helluva trek," August said.

"Tell me about it," Herbert replied.