"Why?"

"Because she's a stubborn, stupid woman who's trying her best to get herself killed." And because he had opened his damn mouth and made her feel inadequate to the task she had set herself.

"I don't think she wants to die," Tania said quietly. "Not anymore. She's beginning to come alive again. And she's not stupid. She must have a good reason for this. Is there great danger for her?"

"It depends on who's running the camp. Some of them are farces, others are run by fanatics who have no compunction about driving potbellied stockbrokers into having heart attacks to 'toughen' them."

"If they're so macho, they won't accept Nell."

"If she's lucky. But, thanks to Joel, Nell is a choice morsel and they may accept her for less than their usual reasons."

"Rape?"

"Possibly."

"Can you call these places and ask if they've seen her?"

"Membership is confidential." They would all have to be checked out. Which was the most likely? Nell was trying to get away from surveillance. Seattle was the most distant and Seattle was the last number she had called. "I'll take Seattle. Phil, you go to Denver."

Phil nodded. "Shall I call Jamie and tell him to take Panama City?"

"Jamie's still in London. Maybe we'll get lucky." He stood up and brushed a kiss on Tania's forehead. "I'll be in touch. I'll check back if she's not in Seattle and see if she's contacted you."

"Please." Tania followed him from the room and down the steps. "I'm very worried about her, Nicholas."

"You have reason to be."

Eight.

Obanako, Florida "We don't accept women in our training programs, little lady." Colonel Carter Randall's deep southern accent twanged unpleasantly on Nell's ears. "So you can get your little feminist butt out of here."

Nell brushed at the fly that had been buzzing around her face since she had entered the office. She was sweating and the humidity was like a slap in the face. Would it have endangered the man's macho image to turn on the air-conditioning? "I'm not a feminist. Or maybe I am. I don't know what that is anymore." She met his gaze. "Do you?"

"Oh, yes, I know. We've had a few of those dyke broads come down here begging us to teach them how to be real men."

"And did you teach them?"

He smiled nastily. "No, but some of the boys taught them how to be real women."

He was trying to scare her. He was succeeding, but she mustn't let him see it. He was the type of man who relished domination. She asked calmly, "You raped them?"

"I didn't say that, did I?" He leaned back in his chair. "But we have no quarters for women here at Obanako. You'd have to occupy a bunk in the barracks."

"I'm willing to do that."

"So were those dykes. They changed their mind after the first night."

"I won't change my mind." She wiped her moist hands on her jeans. She was no longer sure whether she was perspiring from nervousness or heat. "Why won't you accept women? Our money is just as good."

"But your backbone isn't." His gaze lingered on her breasts. "We accept women ... in their place. A woman should keep to what she does well."

She smothered her resentment. She would get nowhere with this chauvinist bastard by getting angry.

But it might help if she could make him angry, she thought suddenly.

"I saw those big, strong men in the field outside trying to scale that wooden barrier. They didn't seem to be doing too well. Are you afraid a woman could show them up?"

He stiffened. "This is only the first week of training. By the end of the month they'll be over that wall in a flash."

"Maybe."

A flare of temper lit his face. "You're calling me a liar?"

"I'm saying I have doubts that a man who can't maintain discipline in his barracks can make soldiers out of soft recruits in a few weeks."

"I have excellent discipline here in Obanako."

"Is that why you permit women to be raped? That's not military discipline, that's barbarism. What kind of officer are you?" Before he could answer, she went on. "Or perhaps you're not really an officer at all. Did you buy that uniform in an army-navy store?"

"I was a colonel in the Rangers, you bitch."

"How long ago?" she scoffed. "And why aren't you still in the army instead of hiding out in these swamps? Did you get too old to cut it?"

"I'm forty-two years old and I can run rings around any man in this outfit," he said through his teeth.

"I wouldn't doubt it. Those poor bastards can't even get over that barrier. It must make you feel very superior to know that you're stronger than them."

"I didn't mean the trainees, I meant-" He broke off, struggling with rage. "You think that barrier is easy to scale? It's thirty feet high. Maybe you could do better, little lady."

"Possibly. We can only see. If I get over it, will you accept me into the program?"

His smile dripped malice. "If you get over it, we'll all be very happy to accept you into our midst." He stood up and gestured to the door. "After you."

She hid her relief as she followed him from the office and down the steps. So far, so good.

Maybe.

As she drew closer, the wooden barrier loomed much taller than she had thought and appeared slick with mud from the boots of the men who had been trying to scale it.

"Step aside, men," Randall said as he grabbed one of the ropes fastened at the top of the wall. He tossed it to Nell. "Let the little lady take her turn."

She paid no attention to the hoots and grins of the men. She grasped the rope and began to climb. She realized at once it was a different proposition from clambering up the rope suspended from the ceiling of the gym. If she tried to use her knees, the rope swung her against the wood wall. The only way was to use her feet as purchase against the wall and pull herself up.

Four feet.

Her soles slipped on the muddy surface and she crashed against the wall.

Pain.

Laughter from the men below.

Pay no attention to it. Hold on. Don't let go.

She swung away from the wall and braced her feet against the wood again.

Seven feet.

She slipped again. The rough rope burned her hands as she slid down three feet before she caught herself.

"Don't worry," Randall called mockingly. "We're right here ready to catch you, sweet thing."

Laughter again.

Close them out. She could do it. Ignore the pain. One step at a time. Close it all out. There was only the rope and the wall.

She began to climb again.

Three steps up.

She slipped and rammed against the wall.

Four steps.

How many more?

It didn't matter. You could do anything if you took it minute by minute.

It took ten more of those agonizing minutes before she reached the top of the wall and straddled it. She looked down at Randall and the men. She had to wait a moment before she could steady her breathing. "I made it, you son of a bitch. Now keep your promise."

He wasn't pleased, but he was no longer laughing. None of them were laughing. "Get down from there."

"You promised to accept me if I made it. An officer always keeps his word, doesn't he?"

He gazed coldly up at her. "Why, little lady, we'll be delighted to have you. We're going out on maneuvers tomorrow, and I know you'll just love that."

Which meant he intended to make her life miserable. She started down the other side of the barrier. He was waiting when she reached the ground. "This is Sergeant George Wilkins. He'll get your gear. Did I mention he doesn't like the idea of women in the military?"

She nodded at the short, powerfully built sergeant.

Wilkins said, "A baby could have crawled up that wall. It ain't nothing next to the swamps." He turned and strode away from her.

"Better catch up," Randall said genially. "And if I were you, I'd bandage those hands. All kind of fungus and germs live in the swamp. We sure wouldn't want you to catch anything, little lady."

For the first time, she became aware that her palms were torn and bleeding. The wounds didn't bother her nearly as much as that patronizing nickname. "I try to be a lady, but I'm not little." She set off after Wilkins.

Silence fell on the barracks when she followed Wilkins into the long room an hour later.

"That's your bunk." The sergeant gestured to a cot beneath one of the screened windows. "While you're here."

He turned and left.

She tried to ignore the men in the room as she dumped the clothes and gear down on the cot. Tried was the operative word. She could feel their eyes on her as if they were brands. What was she doing here? she wondered desperately. This was crazy. There had to be some other way to accomplish what had to be done.

Ignore them. There might be other ways, but nothing as quick as the one she had chosen. She had made a plan and must keep to it.

She sorted out the clothes and then turned to the M16 and pistol Wilkins had issued her. Wasn't she supposed to clean them or something? All the war movies she had ever seen had a scene where some poor slob was punished for not cleaning his rifle.

"Can I help you?"

She stiffened and turned around.

Why, he was only a kid. A gangly boy, not over seventeen. Freckles bridged his hooked nose, and he was smiling tentatively, almost shyly.

"I'm Peter Drake." He sat down on her cot. "I was out there watching you climb the wall. I don't think the colonel liked it when you reached the top. I liked it. I like it when people win." He smiled with childlike pleasure.

Childlike. As she stared at him she suddenly suspected how apt that term was. Randall must be some kind of fiend to accept a boy like him. "Do you?" she asked gently. "Winning does feel good."

He frowned. "I couldn't get up the wall. The sergeant was angry with me. He doesn't like me."

"Then why don't you leave this place?"

"My daddy wants me here. He was a soldier like Colonel Randall. They wouldn't take me in the regular army. He says this place will make a man of me."

She felt sick.

"And what does your mother say?"

"She's not there anymore," he said vaguely. "I'm from Selena, Mississippi. Where did you come from?"

"North Carolina. You don't sound as if you're from the South."

"I don't stay there much. He sends me away to schools." He began toying with the strap of her backpack. "I don't think the colonel likes you either. Why?"

"Because I'm a woman." She grimaced. "And because I made it up the wall."

He gazed around the barracks. "Some of these men don't like you either. Colonel Randall came here a few minutes ago and told them it was all right with him if they hurt you."

It was no more than she expected.

He smiled. "But I'll help you. I'm not very smart, but I'm strong."