He brought himself closer to the opening in the window, zoomed in with the goggles, and saw now that Murdoch, Bratus, and Zhao were standing in front of two cars, arms folded, talking. Zhao turned and pointed out to the west, and Hansen looked in that direction, but he couldn't see anything yet. And then he noted something else: The driver's-side window was down on Bratus's car, and there was man seated at the wheel, but Hansen couldn't quite distinguish his face.

"Grim, you seeing this?"

"Yes."

"Any idea who he is? Or is he just a driver."

"Need a better image of him."

"It's damned windy out there, but I think I'll deploy the COM-BAT."

"Standing by. And it looks like now you've got a helicopter moving toward you."

Hansen glanced down at his OPSAT. The map of his position zoomed out to show the oncoming helicopter's position as a red point moving toward his green triangle. Then the image zoomed further in on the red dot and dissolved into a file photo of the helicopter, an MD600N light, single-turbine bird with NOTAR (no tail rotor) technology. The chopper could carry up to seven passengers and was fast.

With the clock drumming in his ears--both literally and figuratively--Hansen removed from his pack the nylon sleeve containing the COM-BAT, a six-inch, steel-winged robotic spy plane. While the device seemingly took its name from the Batman universe, COM-BAT actually stood for the Center for Objective Microelectronics and Biomimetic Advanced Technology, part of the University of Michigan's College of Engineering, which had been tapped by the military, through a five-year grant, to develop the sensors, communications tools, and batteries for "the bat."

In addition to the usual array of cameras, minimicrophones, and small detectors for nuclear radiation and poisonous gases, the bat also featured quantum dot solar cells that were twice as effective as current photovoltaics and an autonomous navigation system that was a thousand times smaller than current systems. The bat's body was shaped like a bullet, with a clear domed nose within which you could see its sensor array and solar panel. Its wings extended out at forty-five-degree angles in a V pattern and were slightly hooked at their ends, like a bat's.

Exercising extreme care, Hansen unfolded those wings, tested to be sure they were locked in place, then activated the bat via its smart-phone-sized remote with touch screen. He carefully slipped it through the hole he'd cut in the window, then gave the bat a slight shove, and it immediately took to the wind. With a barely perceptible buzz from its tiny motor, the bat headed toward the airport as Hansen worked the touch-screen controls and adjusted the main camera to point down at the airport. Meanwhile, Zhao's chopper drew closer. The gusts were increasing in strength and frequency, and it was all Hansen could do to maintain control of the little plane.

Then, without warning, the signal from the bat turned to static. Hansen checked his OPSAT. Same thing.

Someone was jamming him.

9

SERGEIleft the keys in the ignition and quietly stepped out of the car. He eased the door shut. The snow and wind immediately cut across his face, forcing him to turn up his collar. He squinted as he turned back to Ames, who crossed to the driver's side.

They had taken a dirt road through a forest adjoining the airport and had pulled off into the brush so Sergei could move in from the west, hopefully undetected.

"If you leave me here," Sergei began in a warning tone.

"Why would I do that? You need to finish the job, and I need to collect the video."

Sergei gave a little snort. "Right. But after I hand you the video, you won't give me the money. You'll kill me."

"That's a chance you have to take. You walk away now, and we push that special button."

Hissing, Sergei slipped the camera into his deep front pocket. "I'm not sure I can find him."

"I'm jamming his OPSAT, his SVT, and his little spy plane. He's deaf and blind. He'll get in closer. He has to."

"Whatever you say."

Sergei took a deep breath and started away from the car, the snow already collecting on his shoulders. He saw a fuel truck parked beside the easternmost hangar. He'd have cover from the group and a good view of the west side of the airport, Hansen's most likely route of advance because of the drainage ditches and better cover.

Sergei glanced back one last time at Ames, who was inside the car and on his satellite phone, then stopped and thought for a moment.

He could go back now and kill the little bastard. Just be done with it. Then he would find and warn Hansen. He could do the right thing, and maybe Grim and the rest of Third Echelon would deem him a hero for exposing their mole, even though he'd been one himself. Maybe they'd reconsider their decision to drop him from the Splinter Cell program. He could save Hansen now. He still had that chance.

But Victoria . . . They would kill her. And then, yes, they would come for him. The consequences were that simple . . . and that deadly.

Sergei pushed on through the trees, ducking below low-hanging boughs as the whomping of the helicopter resounded like a racing heart.

HANSENhad darted out of the church and dropped down into a long embankment running parallel to a service road near the main airstrip. He'd seen how several culverts could provide fast and temporary cover before choosing his course, and he dropped into one drainage pipe just as the chopper thundered overhead and descended toward the helipad. He waited there for another few seconds, then slipped back out, dropped to his hands and knees, and crawled forward for a better view of the pad--about two hundred yards away.

He wasn't sure if the people on board the chopper or Sergei or someone else was jamming him, but he still had no contact with Grim and no electronic surveillance of the area via the COM-BAT plane, which now was circling the airport in an endless loop, waiting for its next set of instructions. Sergei's silence raised questions about him; but, then again, maybe he, too, was being jammed, and his signal had been cut off before Hansen's. He wanted so badly to give the man the benefit of the doubt, but a more powerful sense told him, No, you can't trust him anymore. He's turned.

The chopper pitched up, but the pilot was skilled enough to lower the bird into a hard but efficient landing despite the crosswinds.

Bratus, Zhao, and Murdoch had moved back toward the hangars and were shielding their faces from the rotor wash as the engine began to wind down. Hansen also noted that while the window was down on Bratus's car, the driver was no longer there. He scanned the area. No sign of him. Hmm.

It took several moments before the door on the chopper finally popped. Here we go,Hansen thought. This was either going to get very enlightening or very frustrating, depending upon what he could capture with the laser microphone in this weather and with all that rotor wash.

AFTERmaking his phone call, Ames got out of the car, donned a black balaclava to conceal his face, and followed Sergei's boot prints until he reached a stand of trees on the edge of the airport grounds. He sat on his haunches beside a thick oak, shivering. From this vantage point, he could survey most of the airport with his pair of 18 x 50 all-weather binoculars.

Within ten seconds, he spotted Sergei crouched down near the fuel truck. The fool was partially exposed and easily identifiable from this angle. Not so from where the agents and helicopter were positioned, but Ames would not have chosen that spot. Rookie.