She’d given Deuce—and everyone else—a less-than-honest report about what had happened. When Fred Klein was involved, it was always better to let go of as little information as possible.

“He told me—”

“Hold on. You talked to him?”

“Did I not mention that?” she said innocently.

He scowled deeply. “Must have slipped your mind.”

“Well, he told me that they put the heads in that top cave.”

“Oh, no, no, no. Sarabat again? That was three months ago, Randi. Let it go already.”

“I did let it go,” she said, reattaching the damaged XM25 to her pack and slipping the straps over her shoulders. “But now here we are. I figure it’s karma.”

“Karma my ass. I don’t suppose you’ve noticed that the sun’s going down and the terrain between here and there is pretty much one crappy scree field after another.”

“We have about another hour of good light. We’ll use it and then hunker down until dawn.”

He looked at her like she was a slow child. “Are you kidding? We’ll be standing at the mouth of that cave in three hours. Maybe less.”

She shook her head. “I left behind my night-vision gear so I could bring the rifle.”

He made a show of running a hand through the short hair just below his carbon-fiber helmet. The studs screwed into his skull were clearly visible—colored the matte black that had become fashionable with combat soldiers. “Pull yourself into the twenty-first century, bitch.”

She scratched her nose with an extended middle finger. “Then you’re on point, Ginger.”

*  *  *

IN THE END, Deuce’s time estimate was a little on the optimistic side—though Randi had to admit that it was her fault. For one of the first times in her life, she was experiencing what it was like to be the weak link.

They were now standing five meters from the mouth of the cave and the last four hours had been some of the hardest of her life. There was no question that Deuce was younger and stronger, but normally her experience still allowed a slight edge. The addition of his Merge, though, had put an end to that. He’d negotiated the loose, off-camber slopes like it was broad daylight, leaving her to stumble around trying to follow his footsteps in the dim starlight. Thank God the climb from the top of the ridge down to the cave had been easy—a track wide and flat enough for the Taliban to get their carts down. Otherwise, she’d have had to swallow her pride and hold on to him. Or more likely, refused and ended up a lump of broken flesh on the valley floor.

“What’s the plan?” Deuce whispered, pulling his rifle in front of his chest.

“I don’t see a lot of ways to get fancy. We’re just going to have to poke our head in—”