"The count is off? That can't be, Heath. We're watching them. One of us could have missed something but not all of us."

  "Yeah, it's a goddamn mystery," Heath said and dumped the canvas bag into the mud. There, atop a change of underwear and rolled socks was a gallon-sized plastic zip-bag filled with flash drives. There were at least fifty, maybe more. Months of content for the Young-El sites and probably marching orders for the army of lone wolves gearing up for mayhem back in the states.

  "Help me drag these assholes and their rides into the bush," Heath said.

  Minutes later the road looked as it did before and, within an hour, the rain would wash away the abruptly ended tire tracks and the boot prints of the two SEALs.

  * * * * *

  Manny was waiting at Heath's hide with Re-Pete when Heath and Pig returned.

  "Good call," Manny said. "You got them both?" Chili had informed them of what he assumed went down when he saw the bikes leave the compound and his two teammates suddenly leave their posts.

  "Yeah," Heath said. He held out the bag of drives. "Pulled this off one of them. There's got to be some rich stuff on there for Langley."

  "So that leaves eleven," Manny said.

  "Our count is fucked," Heath said. "Just before the dirtbikers left I made a count of ten. All in the main building."

  "He's right, Manny." Pig nodded. "Except for the guy with the trots, they've all been inside all day."

  "And I counted the Shitter," Heath said. "The count was ten."

  Manny crawled to the vantage point and held the EMFV to his eye. The scope showed the high-contrast images of the ghost figures in motion and at rest inside. Most were concentrated in the kitchen area, at the counter and seated. The smell of frying garlic reached him even here. Dinnertime. He made the count. There were nine inside. With the two dead bikers that made eleven. The count was off again. He swept the lens over the other buildings and the latrine shack. No more figures.

  He returned his gaze to the main building and made another count. They were all concentrated in the kitchen and images overlapped as they filled plates and made their way back to seats at the table or on chairs and bunks around the room. He waited, sipping air and ignoring an ant crawling on the back of his neck. When they were fully separated he took inventory again.

  Fourteen.

  Three more had joined the party while he was sweeping the compound. What the fuck? He wiped sweat from his eyes and squinted into the scope again. He made the count two more times. And with the second count a new figure joined the group. This fifteenth ghost appeared to be rising in stages from the floor of the shack.

  Through a trapdoor in the floor.

  From a cellar.

  Which meant tunnels.

  * * * * *

  "This shit's becoming more like 'Nam than I care for," Chili bitched. "Now we got tunnels?"

  "It's a surprise," Manny said. They left Pig alone to watch the compound while the rest played catch-up back at the base. "We're used to surprises. This has to go tonight. We got a relay from Langley that said that the fucker living over in that shack sponsored another attack. And Langley wouldn't have mentioned it if it wasn't major. We wire up and go when it's dark."

  "And we know he's here?" Re-Pete aked. "He's here?"

  "Cowboy's here," Heath said. "I heard him plain as day. But if they have a back door we need to make damn sure we know where he is before we move."

  "Either that or we find the back door ourselves," Chili said. "And we only have a few hours of daylight to do that."

  Manny took the protective cover off his tablet and tapped the screen to pull back on the view of their mission map to give them a look at a broader area around the compound.

  "What's the purpose of the tunnel and what's the most likely direction they would dig it?" Manny asked.

  "Hold on," Heath said. "Who says they're not still digging it? That's why they're going up and down stairs. Working in shifts, right? Running it from the cellar, out."

  "There's no dirt," Flame said. "Where's the dirt they're digging out? We'd see piles of it somewhere. I think they dug it when they put the buildings up. It's finished."

  "So, what are they doing in the cellar?" Heath asked.

  "Shoring it up," Chili said. "The mud above is heavy with all the rain. The tunnel's probably coming down in places or filling with water. These fuckers aren't on vacation. They're ready to jump in case some guys like us show up. They want that back door open."

  "If that's right, then there'll be signs on the surface where the tunnel's collapsed," Manny said.

  "And it would take us weeks to find them," Flame said. "And all that time these assholes have access to the woods that could bring them up anywhere. We still don't have a real headcount, either."

  "We could get a picture of the tunnel path," Re-Pete said. His eyes were gazing to one side as he ran the idea through his head. "Like archeologists use to survey for ancient ruins. Langley can give us images. They can even provide comparison shots. Comparisons. The pathway of the tunnel should be visible from above."

  "I'll send off a text burst," Manny said. "If this works, we'll have an aerial map that should lead us to the tunnel exit."

  "Do we blow it or use it to gain entry?" Heath asked.

  "We'll make a determination based on conditions when we find it," Manny said, while composing the text for the new burst. "It's a whole new game with new ground rules and we have to stay on top of changes as they happen. I'm sending the request for fresh images. We should be moving inside of fifteen."

  It was sooner than that. They heard shots fired, followed by Pig's SAW opening up loud and long from his post atop the hillock.

  CHAPTER 38

  "We have to move on them now!" Pig shouted, between controlled bursts from the SAW. Answering fire from above was tearing through the foliage over their heads. Between volleys of fire the jungle all around was silent. Every chirping, barking, and howling critter went quiet when the shooting started.

  Heath and Flame dropped down ten feet on either side of him and shouldered their rifles.

  "Where are they?" Heath called back.

  "Above us," Pig said and sent tracers into the trees up the steeply sloping hill at their rear. "I heard voices up there and moved to check on them. I guess they spotted me."

  "They have a tunnel," Flame said, and positioned himself in a natural bunker between the roots of a massive tualang tree. He unslung his Winchester and propped it up, scoping the hillside.

  Heath turned as the sounds of new fire echoed up from below. They heard the firefight down in Tombstone and were responding. Bullets tore up the leaf litter downhill from their position.

  Heath got his Winnie unlimbered and aimed downhill to sweep the compound over his open sights. He picked out a figure firing an AK from the cover of the carport shack. The skinny was using the bush hog for cover and spraying semi-auto fire over a wide range at unseen targets. More fire was coming as snap shots from the other side of the main building. Figures moved along the narrow lanes; visible for seconds through gaps between the shacks. The dense woods and torrential rain were reflecting the sound of the gunfire. It seemed to be coming from everywhere. Down in Tombstone they'd be clueless as to their attackers' positions. It was bonehead action; panic time.

  The shooter above them had a good fix though. The fire from above was steady but high, and falling all around them on both sides. Two shooters, from the sound of their blasts. AKs or SKS rifles. Deliberate semi-auto shots. The shooters were only guessing at where the SEALs were but their guesses were good ones. Rounds were smacking in the green juts over Heath's head.

  Pig belly crawled to a collection of deadfall and sent an arcing stream of fire up hill. The shots from above stopped momentarily. He thought he heard a shout. Probably a miss, but he'd suppressed their fire for now. Either that, or they were running away or moving to a better vantage.

  Through the 30x scope, Heath watched as the skinny in the carport leapt into close-up view. When he popped out to fire a few random rounds Heath could read the Mercedes Benz logo on his faded t-shirt and see the blackened teeth clenched in his twisted mouth. Heath zeroed on the spot where the skinny repeatedly exposed himself to take potshots. The next time he leaned into view Heath squeezed the trigger on the Winchester and took him with a center shot. The heavy .308 spun the skinny to the mud where he lay without moving.

  "Wire up!" Heath called and unstrung a pair of earbuds from a pocket on his vest. They had a built-in mike on an ear loop. He pressed a button on the wire to key it on. Pig and Flame did the same. The bad guys knew they were here. Surprise was history. Close coordination was essential now.

  "Manny, we're taking fire on two sides," Heath said.

  "How bad?" Came the voice in his ear.

  "Nothing we can't handle but we need--" Heath paused while Pig sent more fire up hill. "We need this AO locked down ASAP!"

  "On it! Manny out!"

  * * * * *

  Manny, Chili, and Re-Pete were on the move uphill to take some high ground above the shooters harassing Heath and the others. Manny carried his tablet shoved into his vest and was taking it out periodically to check for a response from Langley through the Jackson. So far nothing. They needed to keep moving, get the initiative back, and seal the area of operations.

  Chili crashed through a thick copse of ferns and came upon a skinny in shorts and sandals turning with a battered old Chi-Com manufactured Kalashnikov smoking in his hands. The skinny's mouth dropped open in surprise and Chili sent a three-round burst into him. The trio of fat .50 cal Beowulf rounds took the skinny through crotch, head, and chest and spread wide on impact. The skinny simply folded over and dropped to the mud.

  Manny came up to join Chili, and Re-Pete emerged just below. A rash of bullets struck the boles of the trees above their heads, raining down splinters and bark. The fresh fire came from below and Manny and Chili fired suppression while Re-Pete crept low with his M4 trained before him.

  A second skinny was ducking and rising with an SKS in his grip, turning his head with wide eyes to scan for targets as the suppression lulled. His attention was diverted, and Re-Pete simply walked up behind him and turned the skinny's head to a red mist with a double-tap. Re-Pete sat down by the still form. The skinny was a grown man but had the build of a child; a thin, wiry little jihadist who did his dirty work on six hundred calories a day. Re-Pete trained his M4 downhill. There was no more movement.

  "I think we're clear," Re-Pete said, and each member of the team received it. They were live now and could follow each other's actions and keep their positions clear. That was vitally important in triple canopy like this, where visibility was poor and the lines of fire, fluid. It was easy to nail a brother in this dense bush and never know until it was too late for anything but regret and a letter home to his family.

  "Heath, you and Flame move up to meet us and sweep as you go. We have you covered," Manny said. "Pig, can you keep everyone's head down in Tombstone?"

  "Nobody's going anywhere," Pig said, as he shifted to a new position. "I nailed their four-bys and their bikes. Punched some holes in that fuel tank too."

  "The back door is the prerogative," Manny said. "We have to find that tunnel. It's on the hill here somewhere."

  Re-Pete was climbing the hill toward Manny and Chili and using the bole of a tree for support on the slippery surface. There was a popping sound from uphill. Re-Pete stood full upright with his brows knitted, then his long face went slack and his hand released his grip. He tumbled back into some rattan trees.

  More shots followed and wicketed into trees and foliage as Manny and Chili dropped to the ground and belly-crawled to new positions.

  "Re-Pete's down!" Manny called, over the sound of Chili pouring fire up the slope in an arcing pattern. "We'll cover! He's right below us in some reeds!"

  "We're coming," Heath's breathing was a growl in the earbuds. He was pissed but tamping it down.

  Chili rolled on his back in the shallow cover of a ditch cut in the hillside by runoff. He pulled the ring on a fragmentation grenade and held the lever tight. He looked over to Manny who dropped his head in a nod.

  "Fire in the hole!" Chili rose to one knee and threw the canister high. Throwing uphill was tricky. Your own grenade could roll down and bite you in the ass. Or it could bounce off a tree and go God-knew-where. But the high looping trajectory of the throw ensured it would detonate before it hit the ground. Three seconds from release, it went off with a whump they could feel through the ground under them. Chili followed that one up with a second frag; this one went off higher up the hill and sent wood fragments raining down on them.

  A high, keening animal shriek echoed through the trees. But it was no animal. Manny and Chili were on their feet and clambering up the hill through the settling cloud of chemical stink and burning wood left behind by the two frags. They slipped and clawed their way up the grade toward the rising and falling cry of a man in hell's own agony.

  They came upon the source of the screams in a clearing cut down by the grenade. The man's body ended at the waist and his legs were nowhere to be seen. Ropes of greasy entrails had spilled from his torso and now lay in the mud, with rainwater pattering on them. His head was back and mouth wide but his scream was losing its force and volume. Manny double-tapped him in the skull. They moved past the corpse toward a whistling and gurgling sound coming from above.

  A second skinny was crawling on hands and knees toward the cover of an enormous fallen tree at the edge of a small clearing. He was leaving a smear of bright-red blood coming from a horrific gash in his side. The gurgling noise came from a hole through his chest. The whistle came with every breath he took as his lungs filled with his own blood. Chili gave him a three-shot burst that drove the skinny face first to the mud.

  Guns to shoulders, they moved on the fallen tree. A tualang that was at least fifteen feet across and probably two-hundred years old on the day it fell. Chili sprayed over the top of the trunk and beyond for any skinnies that might be using it for cover. Manny dropped to hands and knees. There was an opening dug under the tree that was large enough to admit a man on his belly. This is what the dying skinny was making for. There were also mounds where dense new growth covered the dirt dug from an excavation; two or three months earlier maybe. Manny poked his M4 inside and emptied his magazine in it on semi-auto. He rolled away and slapped a new clip in place. The M4 was a powerful war machine but went through ammo fast.

  Chili was covering Manny while he inspected the opening. Flame and Heath caught up to them; both men panting with the effort of running up the punishing grade.

  "Re-Pete's gone, bro," Heath said and held up a silver crucifix, its chain wrapped around his fist. "Took one in the neck just above his armor. He was gone by the time we got to him."

  "This is the opening to their tunnel," Manny said as he shone a pencil flashlight inside. His voice was tight as though something was gripping his throat. "It's shored up with timbers here."

  "Do we blow it?" Flame asked. "Or do we climb inside?"

  "How do we know this is the only tunnel?" Chili asked, scanning the hillside with eyes and ears to make sure they got all the free-range skinnies.

  Manny jerked the tablet from his vest and touched the screen. A fresh sat map was waiting, alongside a comparison map from two weeks ago. There was an interrupted but discernable line on the map showing the path of the tunnel from the point they were now occupying, running downhill in a dogleg to the edge of the compound. Langley had enhanced the image with some graphics, but they weren't needed.

  "This is it," Manny said. His expression was fierce. His eyes were wide. "The way out for them or the way in for us. The map shows where the mud settled over the tunnel excavation since the rains started."

  "What would Re-Pete do?" Heath asked, and held up the small cross hanging from his clenched fist.

  "He'd want us to roll on," Manny grinned wolfishly. "I'm going in with one of you following. The other two go support Pig. Keep everyone inside the wire down in the compound." They could hear bursts from the SAW rising from downhill. The chugga-chugga of AKs was directly answering now. A stand-up firefight was brewing.

  "Nice of them to clear the ground around their perimeter for us," Heath said.

  Flame unlimbered his shotgun without speaking. His face was visibly red even beneath the dark camo paint. His eyes were twitching white orbs as he eyed the dark tunnel opening.

  "How's this going to work?" Heath asked.

  "Like a vise," Manny answered and, night vision goggles in place, slithered into the hole with his Colt auto in his fist. Flame handed Manny his M4 and shotgun down into the hole, and slithered in, drawing his own unslung rifle in after him.

  Heath and Chili trotted and slid down the hill toward the hammering rhythm of the SAW. On the way they passed Re-Pete lying as he fell, but for the bandana Heath pulled down over his face earlier.

  "We'll be back for you, bro," Heath hissed in passing. "Rest easy in the arms of the Lord till we do."

  CHAPTER 39

  The narrow tunnel entrance led to a chamber where Manny and Flame could stoop, but not stand fully upright. In one corner lay rusted digging tools discarded after the diggers broke through to the jungle. In the greenish glow of the night-vision specs, Manny cast his eyes over the musty chamber walled with timbers and sheets of woven reeds. The barrel of his M4 ranged before him.

  He stepped first into the tunnel opening, with Flame following six paces behind. It was a tight fit. The tunnel was about five feet in height and four feet across but the dimensions varied as it worked past monstrous tree roots and immovable rocks. It sloped downhill, generally following the decline toward Tombstone.

  The skinnies they took out weren't wearing any kind of image-enhancement gear. There were no lights strung in the tunnel. They must have relied on flashlights. That would give the two SEALs a distinct advantage in the dark confines of the tunnel. Their goggles would give them an advantage, with an early warning of anyone approaching. Their disadvantage was having no room to maneuver. In a firefight, Manny and Flame would need to take out their enemies first. Retreat was no option. The buried pathway would create a funnel for automatic fire; bullets tracking on the floor and walls.