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Flaherty asked.
    “It's accurate,” Foreman said.
    “Who's the enemy?” Flaherty asked. “Do we fire up anyone we come across or do we run and hide? What are our rules of engagement?”
    Cambodia was a nightmare of warring parties with shifting alliances. There were the Khmer Rouge, the Royal Cambodian Army, and of course, the North Vietnamese and Viet Cong.
    “You won't make contact,” Foreman said.
    Flaherty stared at the CIA officer in surprise. “That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.” The team leader stood. “These men are my responsibility and I'm not about to send them out on a half-assed operation like this.”
    Foreman pointed at Flaherty. His voice was level and cold. “Sit down, sergeant. You will go wherever I want you to. Those are your orders and you will follow them. Clear?”
    “Not clear,” Flaherty said, forcing himself to calm down. “I report to CCN, MACV-SOG, not to the CIA.”
    Foreman reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He negligently threw it at Flaherty. “No, you report to me for this mission. It's been authorized at the highest levels.”
    Flaherty unfolded the orders and read. Then he refolded it and started to put it in his pocket.
    Foreman snapped his fingers. “Give it back.”
    “I'll keep this copy,” Flaherty said.
    Foreman's hand slid down to the pistol on his right hip. Dane was up, his pistol pointing at the CIA man's forehead.
    “Whoa!” Flaherty yelled, more shocked by Dane's action than Foreman's.
    “Tell your man to back off,” Foreman said, his voice under tight control.
    “Dane,” Flaherty said, his tone indicating what he wanted.
    Dane reluctantly holstered his pistol.
    Foreman tapped Flaherty in the chest where he had put the copy of the orders. “You are mine for the duration of this mission. There will be no more questions. Your chopper leaves in ten minutes. Get to the landing zone.”
    Castle had remained still throughout the confrontation. Now he pointed to the door. “Let's go.” The CIA man picked up his own rucksack and threw it over his shoulder.
    Flaherty jerked his thumb and the team walked out. Flaherty felt the straps of his pack cut into his shoulders as he got close to Dane. “What's with you?”
    “This is screwed,” Dane said. “Foreman's lying about something and Castle is scared.”
    “Hell, I'm scared,” Flaherty said.
    “Castle's more scared than just going on a deep mission over the fence,” Dane said.
    “Maybe he's a cherry,” Flaherty said.
    Dane just shook his head.
    Flaherty knew Foreman was full of crap but the part about Castle being scared was news.
    Dane stopped and pointed. Two Nung mercenaries, powerful looking Chinese men armed to the teeth, were watching them from the edge of the landing zone, their hands moving in certain gestures toward the recon team.
    “What's with them?” Flaherty asked.
    “Do you wonder why they had to get us when the CIA usually uses people like them?” Dane asked.
    “Yeah, I been thinking about it,” Flaherty said. “But I figure now it's cause of the SR-71. Maybe they don't want anyone to know they lost one and they're keeping this American only. That's why we had to leave our little people behind.”
    “I've never seen Nungs afraid of anything,” Dane said, “but those guys are scared. Those symbols are to ward off evil spirits.”
    “Oh, crap,” Flaherty muttered as they continued to the chopper. “Just what we need. Evil spirits.”
    “And they're not even going with us,” Dane noted.
    The refueled black Huey was waiting for them, its blades slowly turning. RT Kansas, along with Castle, got on board and the chopper immediately lifted, heading southwest.
    Flaherty looked at his map, noting the location where Foreman had indicated the plane had gone down. It was near the Mekong River, about a hundred klicks from where the river crossed from Laos into Cambodia. The map was mass of dark green and contour lines in the area. No sign of