She saw no evidence of that, though. The attackers had worn traditional local footwear and there were visible gouges from horse hooves—hardly standard merc gear.

That wasn’t to say that this was the result of one of the normal rival village skirmishes that had been going on in the area for a thousand years. Beyond the bizarre decapitations, she couldn’t make sense of the story told by the tracks of the village’s male casualties. A few seemed to have run a short distance but not at the full sprint warranted by the situation. And none showed any evidence that they’d tried to defend themselves or their families. How was that possible for a people who had slapped around everyone from Alexander the Great to the Soviet Union?

A quiet crunch became audible to her right. She spun smoothly, bringing her pistol level with the sound.

“Don’t shoot! It’s me,” Deuce said, appearing from around a mud wall.

She holstered her weapon. “Anything?”

“They must have been taken by surprise,” he said with a shake of the head. “Whoever took them out also made off with their weapons and hauled away any of their own casualties. That is, if there were any. I can’t find any unaccounted-for blood or footprints of attackers that look like they took a hit.”

“You find the heads?”

“Nope.”

She let out a long breath and shaded her eyes from the sun sinking in the west. She’d known these people. In fact, she’d convinced the agency to fund a project to get them clean water. They were good Muslims, but had no love for the Taliban.

“Hard to believe that they’d get caught flat-footed like this,” Deuce said.

“Impossible to believe. They were good fighters and they knew damn well they had enemies—some that go back hundreds of years and some new ones who know they sided with us a few times. There’s no way in hell someone just rolled in here and wiped them out.”

“Looks to me like that’s exactly what happened.”

A gunshot sounded and she ducked involuntarily, drawing her weapon and listening to the clang of a round hitting metal.

“Shit!” Deuce said. “It’s coming from the south wall of the canyon. They’re going for the helicopter!”

Randi slid her back against the sooty building as more shots rang out. The wind was picking up and the sniper could only manage a hit every two or three times but the chopper was pretty much devoid of armor. One lucky hit and they’d have to decide between the humiliation of calling in a rescue and a long, dangerous walk home.

She came to the edge of her cover and strolled across a dirt track to a wall on the other side. The deliberately slow pace had its intended effect and she saw a round kick up dust a meter or so to her right. Hopefully, the sniper would forget about the chopper now that he knew flesh-and-blood targets were on the menu.

“I’m guessing that guy has friends,” Deuce shouted. He fired off a volley in the general direction of their attacker, but his weapon wasn’t designed for that kind of range. “Word’s gonna get out about our visit pretty quick.”