The move took him into the path of the other Romanian. oim Doi pumped a dozen or more 30mm slugs into the enemy MiG before he overtook the plane and had to break off.

Though battered, the Russian managed to come back north, pointing his nose in the direction of the pipeline. But there was no escape now-both Romanians were on his tail. The Russian fired his air-to-ground missiles-much too far from the pipeline to strike it-then turned hard to the right, trying to pull one of the Romanians by him so he could open fire. The maneuver worked, to an extent-oim Unu started to turn, then realized the trap and broke contact. Before the Russian could take advantage, however, oim Doi closed in for the kill. The canopy exploded and the Russian shot upward; by the time his parachute blossomed, his aircraft had crashed to the ground.

Presidential villa,

near Stulpicani, Romania

0101.

GENERAL LOCUSTA FOLDED THE MAP OVER THE HOOD OF the car. He was losing time; he wanted to be in Bucharest by first light. This needed to be wrapped up. Now.

"What's this building?" he asked, pointing to a small square on the map.

Major Ozera shook his head. "Abandoned. It's small. One of our teams is near there now. The president is not there."

"He has to be on the mountain somewhere."

Locusta looked back at the map. He could send swarms of men onto the hill to find Voda, but he doubted they would kill the president.

He would have Voda brought to him, take him into the ruins, then have him killed.

Along with his family, who must be with him.

And the soldiers who found them? He'd have to kill them too.

Was it worth risking complications?

Not yet.

Ozera and his men would have to do a better job.

The general's attention was distracted by the sound of a helicopter flying nearby.

"I told you I didn't want the helicopters involved," Locusta told the major. "Their pilots can't be trusted."

"It's not ours. The sound is different. Louder. Listen."

Locusta listened more carefully, then pulled out his satellite phone.

"Get me the Dreamland people. General Samson. Immediately."

Aboard Dreamland Osprey,

near Stulpicani, Romania

0105.

"WE'RE ABOUT FIVE MINUTES AWAY FROM THE TOP OF THE hill," the Osprey pilot told Danny Freah. "Where's your man?"

Danny shook his head. He'd checked with Dreamland Command, but Voda had not called the number the amba.s.sador had given him. And the amba.s.sador said that Voda was worried that if they called him, the phone would be heard.

"We can search with the infrared cameras," the pilot told Danny. "We should be able to find them. The night's pretty cold."

"You sure, with all those trees?" asked Danny.

"There's no guarantee. But if they move around-if they want us to see them, we should be able to. I'd say the odds are probably sixty-forty we find them, maybe even higher."

Danny had been on search teams in the Sierra Nevadas at the very start of his Air Force career and he wasn't quite as optimistic. Besides, if Voda was hiding, the people they saw might actually be his pursuers.

"We'll give him another five minutes," he told the pilot. "Let's see what happens."

Presidential villa,

near Stulpicani, Romania

0107.

TO VODA, IT SOUNDED AS IF THE DOGS AND TROOPS WERE less than ten feet away.

A wind had whipped up, and it blew through the trees like a torrent of water streaking over a high falls. The cold had turned his wife's nose beet red; Julian's hands felt like stones in his. Their fear had stopped providing them with energy. They were at the edge of despair, ready to give up.

Mircea started to rise. Voda practically leaped over Julian to grab her. She opened her mouth; Voda clamped his hand over it.

"Sssshhhh," he whispered in her ear.

She gave him a look that he had never seen directed at him before, a stare that in his experience she'd used only twice during their relationship. Both times, it was directed toward members of the old regime, men who were her sworn enemy.

"We'll get through it," whispered Voda.

She didn't answer.

The men were louder, closer. Or maybe just the wind was stronger, pushing their voices toward them.

The dogs began to bark wildly. Voda reached for Julian with his other hand, pulling him close. He thought of the pistol-should he take their lives to spare them whatever torture Locusta had in mind?

Killing himself would mean dying a coward's death. But it would be an act of mercy to spare his son and wife humiliation and suffering.

Julian shivered against his side.

There was no way he could kill his son; simply no way. Not even for the best reasons.

The barking intensified. The dogs were getting closer.

But they were going in the wrong direction! Confused by the shifting wind, they were doubling back over the trail.

Voda barely trusted the senses that told him this. He waited, holding his breath. Finally, his wife shook her head free of his hand.

"You have to call the Americans," she said. "You have to, so they can find us."

"Yes," said Voda. "Come on, we'll cross over to the other side of the hill while they're going in the other direction. We have to be quiet."

He picked up Julian. The boy seemed even heavier than he had earlier.

"Are you going to call?" Mircea asked.

"I will."

"I hear a helicopter."

Voda froze. "Hide!" he said. "Get as low to the ground as you can."

Aboard B-1B/L Boomer,

over northeastern Romania

0108.

GENERAL SAMSON HIT HIS TALK b.u.t.tON.

"Samson."

"This is General Locusta. You have helicopters in my area."

"I don't have helicopters."

"Don't lie. I can hear them."

"We have an Osprey standing by in the area where we are operating," said Samson, hedging, of course. "It is a search and rescue craft, ready in case one of our planes-or yours-is shot down by the Russians."

"We believe the criminals have taken prisoners, perhaps the president's son and wife," said Locusta. "They may kill them if they get desperate. Tell your helicopter to back off."

"I can release my aircraft to a.s.sist you," said Samson.

"We do not require your a.s.sistance."

"In that case, I want it on station for an emergency."

"If your aircraft persists, I'll shoot it down myself," said Locusta.

Presidential villa,

near Stulpicani, Romania