"If there is a separate group, Paul's afraid Mike will miss them unless he leaves now. Tell Mike that if Viens spots them we'll pass along their location."

"Very good," August replied.

"And if this cell knows anything I'll let you and Mike know."

"Fine," Herbert said.

"I've tried to raise them on the radio but they're not answering.

Listen, Brett. If Mike doesn't think he can do this I want to hear about it."

"Do you really think Mike Rodgers would turn down an assignment?" August asked.

"Never," Herbert said.

"That's why I need you to listen between the lines. If there's a problem, tell me."

"Sure," August said.

August hung up and slipped the radio from the belt. Mike had the best "poker voice" in the United States armed forces.

The only way August might find out if he had a problem with a mission was to ask him outright. Even then, Rodgers might not give him an answer.

Rodgers answered and August gave him Hood's instructions.

"Thank you," Rodgers replied.

"I'm on it."

"Mike, is it doable without more gear? Herbert wants to know."

"If I don't answer the radio again, it wasn't," the general replied.

"Don't be an ass-pain," August warned.

"If you can feel your ass you're doing a lot better than I am," Rodgers replied.

"Point, Rodgers," August told him.

"Stay in touch."

"You, too," Rodgers replied.

August switched the radio to vibrate rather than beep.

Then he slipped it back into his belt. He was still watching the ledge.

The wind had grown stronger over the past few minutes. The ice crystals were no longer blowing in gentle patterns. They were charging past the boulder in sharp diagonal sheets. The fine particles struck the cliff and bounced off hard at a right angle. They created the illusion of a scrim hanging in front of the ledge.

Suddenly, a dark shape appeared behind the driving ice.

It was blacker than the surrounding amber-black of sunset.

It did not appear to be holding a weapon, though it was too dark to be certain.

August motioned to Musicant, who nodded that he saw it For the colonel the rest of the world, the future, and philosophy vanished. He had only one concern.

Surviving the moment.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE.

The Great Himalaya Range Thursday, 6:57 p. m.

Sharab had lost all sense of time. She knew that they had been walking for hours but she had no idea how many. The woman's thighs burned from the struggle of the upward and then downward trek, and her feet were blistered front and back. Every step generated hot, abrasive pain.

Sharab did not know how much longer she could continue. Certainly getting down to where she believed the Indian army was situated would be virtually impossible. She would have to find some way of slowing the enemy down from up here.