Gordian leaned toward the edge of his seat.

"They're pulling up stakes," he said.

"Those guys in desert fatigues around the plane, how close can you zoom in on them?" Ricci said into his computer's mike.

"Give us a minute, you'll know if any of them have acne scars," a techie replied via his earphones.

He waited, his attention rapt on the screen.

It took less than a minute.

The man at the foot of the L-100's boarding ramp had short-cropped hair, an angular face with a strong, square jut of chin, and wore aviator glasses and a drive-on rag-type headband. He was clearly calling out orders, directing the upload of personnel and cargo.

"You see that one?" Thibodeau said. Hands gripping the tubular safety rail of his bed, he hoisted himself painfully up from his pillow, leaning closer to the notebook computer on his hospital tray. "You see him?"

"Rollie, maybe you'd better take it easy--"

"Le chaut sauvage, " he said.

"What?"

"Got the look of a wildcat." Thibodeau's eyes were alight under the brim of his battered campaign hat. "He's in command. An' not just of gettin' stuff onto the planes."

Megan studied the screen from the chair beside his bed.

"You think we've got the top man in our sights?"

"Don' know if he's the brains ... but combat leader, oui," he said. "I tell you, I know." He paused. "From the looks of 'em, the people he's orderin' around ain't no drug runners or guerrillas neither. They're mercenaries, for sure. Got to be the ones who hit us the other night."

Megan turned her attention back to the face on-screen.

"We better find out who he is," she said.

Thibodeau looked at her.

"Cherie, I think it's more important that we find out where he an' his boys are goin' ... an' if we can, stop them from gettin' there."

"The question is why they're clearing out," Nimec said into his mouthpiece.

Ricci from across the globe: "Agreed. And if they're mobilizing, what for?"

"How long before we have Hawkeye-II transmitting optical images from over Kazakhstan?" Gordian asked over the voice link.

"There's some cloud cover over the region right now," a tech said. "Weather readings indicate a slow-moving front."

"How long?"

Listening in, Annie turned from the face being close-upped on the wall and stared at Nimec.

"Kaza--" she mouthed silently.

Nimec cut her off with a motion of his hand as the satellite techs gave Gordian his answer. Then he briefly switched off his headset.

"Sorry," he said. "I wanted to hear what--"

It was Annie's turn to interrupt. "You think those people are out to stop the Russian shuttle launch? Cause the same sort of thing that happened to Orion?"

Nimec licked his lips.

"My feeling is they could be," he said. "The satellite pictures will tell us more."

She shook her head in anxious disbelief.

"What now?" she said. "We need to ... are you going to contact the State Department?"