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pretty messed up from hitting the rocks, but the woman definitely was not Amanda West.”
    Disappointment lurched through Kate. That was Moss talking. Obviously his stab wound hadn’t been fatal or even debilitating.
    Venom filled his voice. “That bitch broke my nose. I’d know West anywhere.”
    “It sounds like Captain Katherine Kane,” Kunz said,“S.A.S.S.’s explosives expert. She bombed my former Iranian compound to hell and back, thinking I was in it. Cost me a fortune.” He sneezed, then added, “Find this woman and bring her to me—alive, Moss. Let’s see if it’s Kane, and exactly what S.A.S.S. knows about us.”
    Kate shivered. Kunz was thinking torture, and he was a master at it. His reputation for gruesome violence was legendary. Amanda had reported a clinical accounting of what he’d done to her, but Kate had enough experience to fill in the gaps. The woman had suffered at his hands. Kunz did horrific things to people with information he wanted. Things like removing bones, performing amputations, hammering metal punches through eardrums. He liked inducing pain, the sadistic bastard. The more pain, the better.
    Determined not to become one of his victims, Kate didn’t move, scarcely took breath.
    Finally the voices faded and the vibrations of their footsteps grew faint and then ceased. Uncertain they really were gone, she hesitated to leave her hiding spot. They could be waiting for her. Setting her up. She didn’t think so. Instinctively she sensed their absence, but with Kunz waiting to torture her, she wasn’t taking any chances.
    The afternoon heat grew almost unbearable. Itching and miserable, her throat parched, her entire body drenched in sweat, Kate longed to get up and move, but long years of discipline and training kicked in and kept her in her grave.
    When the air taken in through the tube cooled and the heat subsided, she knew night had fallen. Quietly she lifted her head and her arm nearest the rock. Brushing the sand from her eyes, she opened them and scoured the starlit landscape for odd or unusual shapes.
    Seeing none, she reared up, reveling in the cool breeze brushing across her. Swearing it felt better than sex, she smoothed over her grave in case she needed to use the tactic again, then checked her coordinates on her GPS unit. With her location confirmed, she began the hike back to the outpost.
    Even if she moved at a good clip, it would take her the better part of an hour on foot to get to the outpost. She hoped she could make it. Already she was feeling exhausted and nauseous. Naturally she hadn’t carried her canteen with her on the dive, and she had developed several symptoms of dehydration. “Home Base?” She tried Maggie again through the face mask. Her throat raw and scratchy, she dusted caked sand off the mike and tried again. “Home Base?”
    Still no response.
    Either someone else had activated the C-273 communications device and Home Base knew any conversation would be monitored, or the damn satellite had been diverted.
    Grimacing, totally drained, Kate moved, and kept moving, kept putting one foot in front of the other on the uneven ground. More than ever, she needed to contact Home Base and to warn Colonel Drake about what she’d found.
    The woman was going to freak.
    Comforted at knowing it, Kate walked on, her legs trembling, her stomach shaking. She’d hate to be the only one Kunz and his goon GRID operatives had given double vision.
    A long and grueling hour later, Kate arrived at the small tent camp dubbed “the outpost.” A perimeter guard let her through with a snappy salute and a worried look. “You okay, Captain Kane?”
    Douglas had cued someone she was coming. Word traveled fast in an outpost. So much for anonymity. She couldn’t muster even a throaty croak so she nodded—and stole the water bottle clipped to his belt. Taking in a long drag that cooled her parched throat, she screwed the cap back on and passed the bottle to him. “Thank