"One minute," the team leader announced to the others. He lowered the satphone for a second.

"This is going to be very interesting."

David glanced out the window. He could see the horizon now, which meant the plane was very low. There was so much more he wanted to write, but there was no more time. He hit the send button on the satphone.

The SENDING message flickered on the small screen.

"Come on, come on," David whispered. He glanced around. Should he assume the crash position that was always briefed? He smiled bitterly to himself. With the engines still at full thrust, there wasn't going to be much left of this thing after it hit the water.

He looked at the screen. SENDING was still flashing.

Vaughn still couldn't see land below. He had to trust the plane's navigator that they were going out where they'd planned. He looked up into the tail of the plane at the red light that glowed there. In a flash it went out and the green light above it flickered on.

"Go," he yelled.

Ruiz held up his hand, but still had to shout to stop the frenzied bidding.

"Time."

He turned to the shaken woman who had been taking in the bids.

"Who and how much?" The woman swallowed.

"Sixty million. Bidder number four."

There was silence in the room as the number sank in. It was as if, during the actual bidding, the reality had been lost in the lust for a one-of-a-kind piece of history.

David's complete focus was on the message flashing on his screen. He didn't want to see how close the water – and his death – were. The letters SENDING began to dissolve and were replaced. He cursed. BLOCKED They'd thought of everything, and cut him out of the Milstar loop.

The nose of the plane hit.

Vaughn and Tai went off the ramp in step and fell into the darkness.

The room exploded in excitement. Money wasn't the issue. Questions were hurled at Ruiz. Where had these artifacts come from? Who was behind this?

He did not answer nor did he give them time to collect themselves.

"We will now bid on the box. And…" He paused for effect.

"…after that, there will be sixteen more articles just as rare and exquisite."

A piece of seat cushion and a rapidly dissipating fuel slick marked the grave of all those who had been on the plane.

As soon as he was clear of the plane, Vaughn assumed a stable position, back arched, arms and legs spread wide. Then he quickly reached down and pulled the rip cord for his main parachute.

The opening shock jerked him upright. He looked up and checked his canopy. It was fully deployed and appeared intact. His hands snaked up and grabbed the toggles controlling the chute. Then he looked about for Tai. She was low jumper, according to the plan, the primary navigator to the drop zone on the island.

Even though they had radio communication, they would not use it unless absolutely necessary, for fear that the Abu Sayef would pick up the transmission. Vaughn spotted her chute below him and to the right. He pulled on his right toggle and turned to follow her.

"They're in the air," the team leader announced.

"Let's see how well the bitch can do."

The black man abruptly stood up and headed for the door.

"Were the hell you think you're going?" the Australian demanded.

"I'm going to get some sleep."

The black man paused and stared at the Australian.

"You got a problem with that?"

"Oh, fuck off," the Australian muttered.

Tai had a navigation board strapped on top of her reserve parachute, just in front of her oxygen cylinder. Built into the board was a compass, a GPS unit, an altimeter, and a small scale copy of the map of their target area. Through her night vision goggles she could see all them, although not at the greatest resolution. Enough to get the job done, though.

She never looked up. She had to trust that Vaughn was tracking her. Her entire focus was on the nav board. Every once in a while she would glance beyond to try to see the island far below them, a reflex that was impossible to resist. Ahead, far ahead, she could spot a dark mass: Jolo Island. They were on track for it, visually confirming what her instruments were telling her.

According to the altimeter, she was passing through 20,000 feet. The chutes were like large wings that they could fly, and were practically undetectable to radar. The C-130 was long gone, traveling along on the same track it had been on, as if nothing unusual had occurred.

She wasn't so focused that she didn't register the slight hitch in her gear, a tug on the right side. She looked up, tracing her riser up to where it connected to nylon cords that spread out to the chute itself. One of the cords had broken. As she was watching, another one popped. She'd never seen anything like that happen. Another let loose. Then another. The right side of her canopy began to flap loosely.

Above Tai, Vaughn could see that something was wrong, since she was now making a slow turn to the right. Even without the nav board, he could see Jolo Island, and she was turning away from it. Vaughn pulled in on both toggles, dumping air so he could get closer to her.

The rest of the nylon cords on the right side of Tai's parachute let go all at once, and the parachute went from a flying wing to a streamer of material wrapped into itself. Her descent practically unchecked, she plummeted toward the earth.

Vaughn cursed as he saw the chute collapse. He dumped as much air as he safely could without causing his own parachute to collapse and chased after her, losing ground.

"Cut away," Vaughn urged, not using the radio yet. He knew she had to know what to do next.

Tai was already in the process of doing that. She couldn't deploy her reserve with the main still attached because the reserve would get caught up in the main, so she had to get rid of the malfunctioning canopy before she could deploy the reserve. She flipped open the metal covers on her shoulder that protected the cutaways, the loops of metal cable attached to pins that locked the attaching point for the canopy to her harness. She put her thumbs through the metal loops and pulled both at the same time.

She was rewarded with two metal cable loops dangling over her thumbs but no released main. It was still firmly attached to the rig. Shocked at this second and most unexpected event, Tai lost her concentration and began to tumble, held partly upright by the streamer.

She was a good two hundred feet below Vaughn and moving farther away with each second. He couldn't understand why she hadn't cut away yet. The only possibility was that she was unconscious. But he could see her arms moving purposefully, pulling at her shoulders.