He spun away and broke into a jog, knowing he should tell her how to avoid the crocodiles, but too furious to bring himself to it. She would have to depend on her God.

THOUGHTS CRASHED through Shannon’s mind as he ran under the trees, confused and furious. Slowly the images of the woman were replaced by images of Abdullah. Slowly the lust for his blood crept through his mind, like an antiseptic numbing this other pain. Slowly Shannon climbed back into his old skin and prepared himself for the end of this long journey.

The first indication that he wasn’t alone on the mountain came at the base of the black cliffs. A flock of parrots took to the air down valley, squawking loudly. He immediately pulled up and changed direction.

Shannon eased his way through the bush to the right of the disturbance. He moved from tree to tree, carefully measuring the jungle before him. The wind shifted and a light breeze brushed his face. He dropped to the ground as the strong smell of fish—tuna fish—filled his nostrils.

Humans. Whites.

Then he saw the soldier. Through the brush, still about fifty yards off, to his left, a single man dressed in the stripped-down military garb typical of the Special Forces. Close-cropped hair topped the man’s camouflage-painted head. An automatic rifle crossed at his waist.

Shannon stared through the foliage at the hidden warrior and quickly considered his options. This was probably the perimeter guard of a post farther ahead. The cliff likely.

He studied the man carefully for a full five minutes before moving forward. He slowly edged his way closer to the shifting guard. For Shannon, armed with only a knife, stalking a trained killer armed with an automatic weapon, stealth would be the difference between life and death.

He stopped, crouched low behind the foliage, and studied the husky man. Regardless of their confidence, most of these white boys didn’t belong in the jungle—at least not this jungle.

Shannon drew back his knife, held it for a second, and then hurled it at the man’s exposed head. The startled soldier had barely started his turn when the butt of the knife smashed into his temple and dropped him. Shannon waited for a few moments, allowing the adrenaline in his veins to ease. Confident that no alarm had been raised, he slid next to the unconscious Ranger, retrieved his knife, and quickly removed a nine-millimeter revolver from the man’s waist. He left the man on his back and slipped through the trees toward the cliff pass.

Laying the Ranger out hadn’t been necessary, of course. He could’ve just as easily made his way past the team unnoticed. But since the CIA had gone as far as inserting Ranger forces to stop him, the least he could do was let them know he appreciated the gesture.