There was another shout, followed by the rattle of falling rock as the man’s teammate started down to him. Zahid had been confirmed dead and, for the moment, they sounded as though they were satisfied that the threat had been neutralized.

Randi pulled herself from the shallow hole and listened for any hint of pursuit as she continued on. The mercenaries had chased and cornered one man and now he was dead. There was no reason for them to think anyone else had been involved—a mistake she herself probably would have made in their position.

Ahead, the darkness took on a hint of gray, but she didn’t let it cause her to quicken her pace. It was another interminable five minutes of wondering if they’d empty another clip into the gap before Randi exited onto a steep, moonlight-washed slope.

She immediately started up, wanting to make sure that this time she had the superior position if the men decided to come after her.

After fifteen minutes of lying quietly in the rocks with her silenced Glock on her chest, though, there was still no sign of pursuit.

Finally, she relaxed and redirected her gaze to the sky as she took another inventory of her condition. There was a little blood trickling down her face and she was going to have a nice bruise across her forehead. No big deal. Her right ankle had taken a bit of a beating—nothing that would keep her out of heels, but less than ideal for a five-hour hike that included climbing down a steep, loose mountain in the dark. Particularly with her two Ukrainian friends still out there.

She dug into her pack for her sat phone and began dialing.

“Randi?” Klein said when he came on. “Are you all right? It’s my understanding that you’re still not back at base.”

“I’ll live. The last resident of Kot’eh just got taken out by mercs—Ukrainian, I think. Before he died he told me that they were given equipment and intel and paid to go after Sarabat. They were also paid to take their heads and hide them in a cave southeast of here.”

“Anything else unusual?”

“He said that the men didn’t fight back. The women and children did, but it sounds like the men just stood there.”

There was a short pause. “All right. I think this is getting a little beyond the scope of what I have authorization to look into. Let me work on this from my end. Can you get back on your own?”

She looked down the dark slope. “I always do.”

17

Near Santiago
Chile

THE ROAD WAS IN EVEN WORSE condition than he expected and Craig Bailer began to regret driving himself. The benefit of a little time to mentally prepare for his meeting had been significantly diminished by crossing no fewer than three streams and a mud bog that had very nearly left him stranded. No place for a man born and bred on the Upper East Side.