Until now.

"It seems we've arrived too late," a voice said.

Siang turned to see his client emerge from the shadows, one more among this gathering of giants.

"They have had only a few hours head start," said Siang. "Their evening meals were left uneaten."

"Then they haven't gone far. Not with women and children." The man turned to one of the soldiers. "What about the prisoner? Has he talked?"

"Not a word." The soldiers shoved a village man to the ground. They had captured the man ten miles up the road, running toward Ban Dan. Or, rather, the dogs had caught him. Useful animals those hounds, and absolutely essential in an operation where a single surviving eyewitness could prove disastrous. Against such animals, the villager hadn't stood a chance of escape. Now he knelt on the ground, his black hair silvered with moonlight.

"Make him talk."

"A waste of time," grunted Siang. "These northerners are stubborn. He will tell you nothing."

One of the soldiers gave the villager a kick. Even as the man lay writhing on the ground, he managed to gasp out a string of epithets.

"What? What did he say?" demanded the soldier.

Siang shifted uneasily. "He says that we are cursed. That we are dead men."

The soldier laughed. "Superstitious crap!"

Siang looked around at the darkness. "I'm sure they sent other messengers for help. By morning-"

"By morning we'll have the job done. We'll be out of here," said his client.

"If we can find them," Siang said.

"Find a whole village? No problem." The man turned and snapped out an order to one of the soldiers. "That's what the dogs are for."

A dozen candles flickered in the cavern. Outside, the wind was blowing hard; puffs of it shuddered the blanket hanging over the cave mouth. Through the dancing shadows floated murmuring voices, the frantic whispers of a village under siege. Children gathered stones or twisted vines into rope. Women whittled stalks of bamboo, sharpening them into punji stakes. Only the babies slept. In the darkness outside, men dug the same lethal traps that had defended their homeland through the centuries. It was an axiom of jungle warfare that battles were won not by strength or weaponry but by speed and cunning and desperation.

Most of all, desperation.

"The cylinder's frozen," muttered Guy, sighting down the barrel of an ancient pistol. "You could squeeze off a single shot, that's all."

"Only two bullets left anyway," said Maitland.

"Which makes it next to worthless." Guy handed the gun back to Maitland. "Except for suicide."

For a moment Maitland weighed the pistol in his hand, thinking. He turned to his wife and spoke to her gently in Vietnamese.

Lan stared at the gun, as though afraid to touch it. Then, reluctantly, she took it and slipped away into the shadows of the cave.

Guy reached for Andersen's assault rifle and gave it a quick inspection. "At least this baby's in working order."

"Yeah. Nothing like a good old AK-47," said Maitland. "I've seen one fished out of the mud and still go right on firing."

Guy laughed. "The other side really knew how to make 'em, didn't they?" He glanced around as Willy approached. " How' re you holding up? "

She sank down wearily beside him in the dirt. "We've carved enough stakes to skewer a whole army."

"We'll need more," said her father. He glanced toward the cave entrance. "My turn to do some digging… "

"I was just out there," said Guy. "Pits are all dug."

"Then they'll need help with the other traps-"

"They know what they're doing. We just get in the way."

"It's hard to belive," said Willy.

"What is?"

"That we can hold off an army with vines and bamboo."

"It's been done before," said Maitland. "Against bigger armies. And we're not out to win a war. We just have to hold out until our runners get through."

"How long will that take?"

"It's twenty miles to the next village. If they have a radio, we might get help by midmorning."

Willy gazed around at the sleeping children who, one by one, had collapsed in exhaustion. Guy touched her arm. "You need some rest, too."

"I can't sleep."

"Then just lie down. Go on."

"What about you two?"

Guy snapped an ammunition clip into place. "We'll keep watch."

She frowned at him. "You don't really think they'd find us tonight?"

"We left an easy trail all the way."

"But they'll need daylight-"

"Not if they have a local informant," said her father. "Someone who knows these caves. We found our way in the dark. So could they." He grabbed the rifle and slung it over his shoulder. "Minn and I'll take the first watch, Guy. Get some sleep."

Guy nodded. "I'll relieve you in a few hours."

After her father left, Willy's gaze shifted back to the sleeping children, to her little half brothers, now curled up in a tangle of blankets. What will happen to them? she wondered. To all of us? In a far corner, two old women whittled bamboo stalks; the scrape of their blades against the wood made Willy shiver.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

Guy nodded. The candlelight threw harsh shadows on his face. "We're all scared. Every last one of us."

"It's my fault. I can't stop thinking that if I'd just left well enough alone…"

He touched her face. "I'm the one who should feel responsible."

"Why?"

"Because I used you. For all my denials, I planned to use you. And if something were to happen to you now…"

"Or to you," she said, her hand closing over his. "Don't you ever make me weep over your body, Guy Barnard. Because I couldn't stand it. So promise me."

He pressed her hand to his mouth. "I promise. And I want you to know that, after we get out of here, I…" He smiled. "I plan to see a lot more of you. If you'll let me."

She returned the smile. "I'll insist on it."

What stupid lies we're telling each other, she thought. Our way of pretending we have a future. In the face of death, promises mean everything.

"What if they find us?" she whispered.

"We do what we can to stay alive."

"Sticks and stones against automatics? It should be a very quick fight."

"We have a defensible position. Traps waiting in the path. And we have some of the smartest fighters in the world on our side. Men who've held off armies with not much more than their wits." He gazed up at the darkness hovering above the feeble glow of candlelight. "This cave is said to be blessed. It's an ancient sanctuary, older than anyone can remember. Follow that tunnel back there, and you'll come out at the east base of the cliff. They're clever, these people. They never back themselves into a corner. They always leave an escape route." He looked at the families dozing in the shadows. "They've been fighting wars since the Stone Age. And they can do it in their bare feet, with only a handful of rice. When it comes to survival, we're the novices."

Outside, the wind howled; they could hear the trees groan, the bushes scrabbling against the cliff. One of the children cried out in his sleep, a sob of fear that was instantly stilled by his mother's embrace.

Hie little ones didn't understand, thought Willy. But they knew enough to be afraid.

Guy took her in his arms. Together, they sank to the ground, clinging to each other. There was no need for words; it was enough just to have him there, to feel their hearts beating together.

And in the shadows, the two old women went on whittling their stalks of bamboo.

Willy was asleep when Guy rose to stand his watch. It wasn't easy leaving her. In the few short hours they'd clung together on the hard ground, their bodies had somehow melted together in a way that could never be reversed. Even if he never saw her again, even if she was suddenly swept out of his life, she would always be part of him.