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occasionally turning it on a makeshift spit. He could smell the meat from where he lay. He could also smell the joint they were sharing.
    Graham was a youthfully handsome 37-year-old with tousled collar-length auburn hair and penetrating pale blue eyes who kept himself in shape with a daily predawn run followed by a gruelling workout in the converted mini-gym behind the cabin. His obsession with fitness dated back to his childhood in the Bronx when his only ambition was to wear the famous blue and white uniform of the New York Giants. His ambition was realized when he was signed up as a rookie quarterback after he gradu- ;| ated from UCLA with a degree in Political Science. A If month later he was drafted into Vietnam where a shoulder ^ injury cut short his promising football career. He joined S| the C1A to help train Meo tribesmen in Thailand and oil. ^ his return to the United States he was accepted by the elitt t| antiterrorist squad, Delta. He was promoted to leader of =1 Squadron-B eleven years later and his first mission was to jjj
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    a five-man team into Libya to destroy a known bgrist base on the outskirts of Benghazi. He was about Ipve the order to close in on the base when news reached jljji/tbat his wife, Carrie, and son, Mike Jnr, had been l^cted outside their New York apartment by Arabjeaking gunmen. He refused to abort the mission and was destroyed. The FBI launched an intensive mwide search but Carrie and Mike Jnr were never He was retired from Delta at his own request three is later but was initially turned down for UNACO Secretary-General on the basis of his psychiatric Philpott personally overruled the Secretary's decision and Graham was accepted as a "AGO field operative, subject to periodic reevaluation every year.
    older of the two men, who was wearing a peaked ^Šver his grey hair, tossed the joint into the fire then |f JO his feet and helped himself to another beer from Jer on the passenger seat. He was about to sit down when a movement caught his eye in the scrub behind $eep. He tapped his blond-haired companion on the ler, gestured for him to be quiet, and pointed Is the scrub. The blond-haired man took a .300 :f Hale from the back of the jeep, raised it to his r and fired. He shouted in triumph and slapped id on the back.
    '0u only hit it in the leg, Ray,' the grey-haired man then took another mouthful of beer. 'Hell, that ;S big enough to keep us in jerkey for the next
    is,' Ray replied with a grin. 'Hey, look at it tryin' up. It's not goin' to get far on three legs.' companion laughed. 'Shoot it in another l eg. I bet f$i ten dollars you can't.'
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    'You're on, Sam,' Ray replied and raised the rifle to his shoulder again.
    Graham, who had crept up silently behind them, struck Ray in the small of the back with the butt of the Mzi, slamming him against the side of the jeep. The Parker Hale fell to the ground. Sam made a move towards it.
    'If you pick it up, you'd better be prepared to use it,' Graham threatened.
    Sam swallowed nervously and stepped away from the Parker Hale. Graham picked it up and threw it into the water.
    'Who are you?' Ray demanded, his face still twisted in pain. 'There ain't no law 'gainst us huntin' round here.'
    I t Graham ignored him, then reached inside the jeep and released the handbrake. It rolled towards the lake. Graham hurried over to where the deer lay, its eyes wide and fearful as it struggled to stand up. He tried to comfort it j by stroking its head. There was nothing he could do to save it. The leg was shattered. He shot it through the back of j the head. Its body jerked, then lay still.
    'I hope you're proud of yourself, boy,' Graham snapped I at Ray, who had managed to stop the jeep inches away] from the water.
    'We was only havin' some fun,' came the sullen reply, j
    'Is that what you call it? Well now, it's my turn to have some fun. Take off your boots, both of you.'
    'Go to hell,' Sam snarled. 'You've got no right to threaten us like this. Ray's