Door, she called.

On the opposite side from the window, a low archway led into another alley.

Together they fled outside

and right into a clutch of another four soldiers.

With surprise on all sides, they scrambled with weapons. But before a shot could be fired, flashes of flailing steel rained down upon the soldiers. Elizabeth and

Kowalski backed together. One man pointed his pistol out at the attackers, but steel snapped and sliced his hand from his arm. Another fell to his knees, his throat slashed open.

In a heartbeat, all four men lay dead, torn apart.

Their rescuers were three men.

Abe and two of the villagers.

Their weapons were unique to the country. Urumi. The infamous whip-swords of

India. Each sword was a flail of four flexible blades, each an inch wide and five feet long yet so thin that the steel coiled like a whip. Elizabeth's father had shown her demonstrations of the fighting known as Kalaripayattu. With a flick of the wrist, the blades unfurled and cleaved flesh with more force than any standard sword.

Come! Abe said. Your friends are this way.

He led them back into the village. They followed a circuitous path both around and through village homes and huts. Abe lashed out with the sword occasionally, striking even around corners to blind and maim. Then he'd jump out to finish the job with his men.

Kowalski's eyes gleamed in the darkness as he watched the slaughter. With a weapon like that, no wonder they're called untouchable. I have to get me one of those.

Coming around another corner, Abe slashed out then jerked his arm back with a glint of thrashing steel. A cry of surprise sounded from around the corner.

So sorry, Abe said.

Rosauro appeared. She held a hand across her cheek. Blood seeped from under her fingers. But her eyes widened when she saw who accompanied the swordsman.

Thank God I found you, she said. Hurry!

As a group, they fled after her.

After a flurry of confusing turns, a familiar pair of fires glowed at the end of an alley. Crouched between two mud huts, Luca waved to them. Elizabeth spotted the professor, huddled deeper in the shadows.

Where was Gray?

As answer, a heavy engine roared to life beyond the village.

Get ready! Rosauro growled at them, blood running down her face.

Ready for what?

Gray shifted into drive and floored the gas pedal. All four tires catapulted him forward. The SUV lunged as one of the rear-side windows splintered. He shot past the twin garbage fires.

A helicopter swooped into view ahead. It had no mounted gun, but it did have someone hanging from its side door with a machine gun.

Gray pounded the brakes. Bullets strafed through the mud just past his front bumper. He threw the truck into reverse, hit the gas, and hightailed it backward with the strength of five hundred horses.

Yanking the wheel, he whipped around his back end, lifting up on two wheels.

Landing on four tires, he shot back toward the alley and hit the rear hatch release. A warning light flashed on the dash as the back hatch swung open on hydraulic hinges. He crashed between the two fires, scattering flaming garbage.

He braked to a stop, nearly striking Rosauro in the thighs as she rushed at him with the others. They clambered and dove into the back cabin. People fell in a tangle in the middle row, making room. He spotted a familiar shaved bulldog's head. They'd found Kowalski.

And Elizabeth, too.

Presently crushed under the large man.

Rosauro called from the rear, Go!

Gray kicked the gas and punched the hatch release to close the door.

Ahead, two helicopters aimed toward him from opposite directions. Twin lines of bullets chewed through the mud.

Gray swerved, juking one way, then the other.

The helicopters matched his moves.

A torrent of fresh gunfire erupted from the village behind him aimed at the birds in the sky. The barrage was impressive, even laced with fiery tracer rounds. A few of the villagers must have confiscated some of the assault team's automatic weapons.

One of the snipers in the helicopter fell from his perch. Its searchlight shattered and went dark.

The other bird veered. Gray ducked past its hail of fire and reached the hills.

He kept the gas floored. With his headlights off, he followed the path of the bullock cart, hoping whatever path the ox took would be passable with the four-wheel drive.

He shot away from the bright fires of the village and out into the rolling darkness. Two helicopters followed, chasing them with searchlights. The third lowered at the edge of the village, dropping lines to the ground, collecting stray men.

Rosauro leaned forward. They're Russians!

Russians?

I think so, she explained. The commandos were carrying AN-94s.

Russian military assault rifles.

In the rearview mirror, Gray caught a worried glimpse on Masterson's face. First an American mercenary team, now Russians How many people wanted this guy dead?

Answers would have to wait for the moment.

Gray could see that the helicopters, reflected in his mirrors, continued to close the distance. While Gray had succeeded in his plan getting the team clear of the village and drawing off the assault team now what?

Turn right at the bottom of the next hill! a voice called behind him with a

British accent. Gray glanced back and saw they had a stowaway.

Abhi Bhanjee.

Rosauro explained, He knows a way to shake our tail!

Hitting the bottom of the slope with a splash of water, Gray took a hard right and followed the muddy valley.

Now left past that next fencerow! Abe yelled.

What fencerow?

Gray leaned forward. Without headlights, it was too dark to see. If only he had more lights

A helicopter swept past, its searchlight blazing. It was not exactly what Gray had been hoping for. Still, with the better illumination, he spotted a fence of stacked stones ahead. Unfortunately the beam also spotted them. Brilliant light swamped the SUV.

A salvo of gunfire erupted, peppering the water, pinging his back end.

With no time to spare, Gray reached the fence and yanked to the left. Even with the four-wheel drive, the back end fishtailed in the water and mud. But the tires finally gripped, and they fled up a short rise and out of the water.

The helicopter swept wide. But its spotlight pivoted smoothly and kept fixed to them, tracking their passage below.

Shooting over the top of the next rise, the SUV lifted into the air for a breath, then struck down hard enough to knock Gray's teeth together. Cries rose from the rear.

At the bottom of the slope and to the right, a black sea divided the gray landscape ahead. It was not water, but a vast forest.

Mango orchard! Abe said. Very old farm. Very old trees. My family has worked many generations there.

Gray shot toward that dark orchard.

The spotlight followed. Gunfire rained at them, but Gray kept a slaloming, unpredictable course. Not a single bullet touched them.

With a final roar of the engine, they barreled into the orchard. Trees towered in straight rows. Branches arched into a continuous canopy, cutting off the glare of the spotlight. Gray slowed as the light vanished and darkness fell around him. Still, he made several turns, running perpendicular to their original path. The thumping of the helicopter's blades faded. Gray fled deeper, like an escaped prisoner running through a dark cornfield.

How large is this orchard? he asked, calculating how well they'd be able to hide here.

Over ten thousand acres.

That's one big cornfield.

As the danger ebbed, everyone settled themselves more comfortably into their seats.

Rosauro leaned forward. There's another reason Abe insisted he come along.

Why's that?