"How do they think the clothes got there?"

Benbow licked his lips. "They think you took them off the boy and threw them over the side of the building."

"They believe I stripped Gerry Fletcher down to his birthday suit and threw his clothes from the building?" Megan felt confused and disoriented. In some ways, the present confusion she was going through was worse than watching Gerry Fletcher slip from her grip. That had ended in seconds, and with-she believed with all her heart-Gerry safe somewhere. The conspiracy to make her a kidnapper seemed like an endless loop of madness-madness that just wouldn't stop. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Most of the people involved think you'd do that to protect the boy. The MPs are on your side. They believe that Private Fletcher would have hurt his son if he'd gotten his hands on him."

"They're not on my side if they think I hid Gerry. How do they think I got him down from that building? And without his clothing?"

"There is some belief that you had an accomplice inside the resident building."

"Do you realize what you're saying?" Megan asked. "You make it sound like I had this whole night planned out."

"There are some who think you've had this planned for some time," Benbow said. "I've been told that you were very frustrated with how things were developing with the Fletcher family. Private Fletcher's wife-"

"Her name is Tonya," Megan said automatically. She felt overwhelmed. How could anyone think that she had planned anything that had happened tonight?

"Tonya," Benbow acknowledged, "told the provost marshal's office that you had been acting possessive of Gerry. She states that she started getting the feeling that you would have taken him away from her if you could have."

"Tonya ignored what was happening to Gerry," Megan said. "She knew her husband was abusing her son, and she chose to ignore that."

"Can you prove that, ma'am?" Benbow looked at Megan hopefully.

"She never acted to help the situation or her son," Megan said. "Check through the files I have on Gerry. You'll find that every referral I received came from the base hospital or a base teacher. Never from Tonya. You should have reports in there from Helen Cordell. Have you talked with Helen?"

Benbow regarded Megan silently for a moment. "You don't know what's taking place on the base, do you?"

Megan made herself breathe out. "Lieutenant, Gerry Fletcher fell from that building over an hour and a half ago. He disappeared before he hit the ground. I don't care how incredible you think that event is, it happened. I saw it. Even if you can't find anyone else who will admit that they did." Please, God, I did see that, didn't I? I haven't gone crazy! How can I take care of my family if I'm insane? She barely managed to cap the rising panic that filled her. God, please help me. I don't know what to believe.

Benbow waited patiently for her to go on.

"I was taken down from that building and brought here," Megan said in a hoarse voice. "I didn't know I was being taken into custody until I wasn't allowed to leave this room without an escort while I went to the bathroom. I don't know anything at all that's happened outside of this room since I was put in it. Nobody's told me a thing. I've got family out there, and I want to know that they're okay. It's driving me crazy to be held like this."

"Then no one has even talked to you about what has happened on the base?"

"No. And I'm starting to worry about that, too. I've noticed a lot of activity outside whenever the door was open. I thought that maybe the MPs were organizing a widespread search for Gerry, since everyone kept coming to me, wanting to know where he was."

"Mrs. Gander," Benbow said in a deliberate voice, "there have been other disappearances on the base. In Columbus as well. In fact, I've heard news stories that say the disappearances are worldwide."

"What? What disappearances?"

Benbow leaned forward. "Gerry Fletcher wasn't the only person to disappear tonight, Mrs. Gander. At about the same time that you're claiming Gerry disappeared, several personnel and civilians around the base went missing as well."

"Who?"

"Helen Cordell was one of those people." Benbow hesitated. "There were others. All of the children on the base seem to be missing. Not just Gerry."

A cold, hard band of fear encircled Megan's heart. She forced herself to speak. "All of the children?"

Benbow nodded, flipping through his notes. "The age range of the missing children appears to be from newborn to the age of twelve. At least, twelve is the oldest reported age I have here on base. Some of the radio and TV networks that are still on air are reporting that about the same age group has gone missing throughout the world."

Chris! Sharp pain lanced through Megan's chest. She felt the heat of her son's face against her palm, felt the feathery softness of his breath against her cheek, felt his arms so tight around her neck as he'd rebelled against being left.

The memory of his voice came to her, so innocent and sweet. "Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. I'm just going to sleep for a little while, Mommy, so you can come and get me soon. "

"Lieutenant Benbow," Megan said, her voice thick with emotion, "I have a son-" She meant to say that she had a son in that age range, but she couldn't get the words out.

"Yes, ma'am. I know." The lieutenant referred to the legal pad. "He's here on base. I've cleared him for visitation."

Thank You, God. Thank You that Joey's home safe. Megan tried to speak, but there wasn't enough air in her lungs. Then her thoughts turned to Chris, and the images of her baby tumbled through her head. So many of them included Goose. He had spent so much time with Chris. Was he among the missing? What would Goose do?

"The reports are going to help us," Benbow said. "With the disappearances of these other children, and no real proof that you had anything to do with Gerry Fletcher's abduction, I don't see how this case can proceed into court. I think all the pending charges of kidnapping will be summarily-"

"Stop!" Megan ordered. Tears burned the backs of her eyes but she refused to let them spill. "I-I have two sons. Two. I have a five-yearold, Chris. I-I left him with the emergency child-care services-earlier this morning." She sobbed, then hiccupped because she was trying to retain control of her voice. "Do you-do you know anything-about the children there?"

Benbow blinked, then sat as motionless as glacial ice. Finally he said, "All of the children there are reported missing, Mrs. Gander. I'm sorry. "

Unwilling to lose complete control of herself right now, Megan took a deep breath. Later, she told herself, I'll look for Chris later. First she had to get out of here, and this lawyer was her best shot at a ticket out the door. She took another breath, then realized her mistake when her lungs grew too tight. She exhaled slowly, like they'd taught her to do back in childbirth classes. Oh, Chris. She put her face in her hands and tried to think through the morass of fear and panic and guilt that overwhelmed her. Maybe Chris wasn't still there. Maybe Joey got him and took him home. Chris would be safe at home, wouldn't he? But who would take all the children? How could anyone A knock sounded at the door.

Megan heard Benbow get up and open the door.

"Can I help you?" the lieutenant asked.

"I'm Joey Holder. The MPs said my mom was here."

Desperate, wanting to wake so badly from the nightmare she was in, Megan looked up. She stood on the other side of the table and gazed at her oldest son.

Joey stood in the middle of the door. A young woman Megan had never seen before stood at his side. Both of them looked beaten and disheveled. Blood streaked Joey's face. He held out Chris's overnight bag with a look of pure helplessness.

"Chris was gone, Mom." Joey's face crumpled and he began to cry. "I'm sorry. I should have been there. But I wasn't."

Megan was stunned. Tears slid down her cheeks as she went to her oldest son and held him in her arms.

"Chris was gone when I got there," Joey sobbed in a choked voice. "All of them were gone. I didn't even get to say good-bye. I just left the house tonight, left him playing in his room. And I didn't even say good-bye to him."

Megan held her son and smoothed his hair the way she had when he'd been a child. "It's going to be okay, Joey. It's going to be okay." She didn't know how she found the voice to speak the words, didn't know how she found the strength to hold Joey as he shook and shivered and cried. "Everything's going to be all right," she said. But she didn't believe it.

She remembered how Gerry Fletcher had fallen from the rooftop, how he had tumbled in the air, and how he had disappeared, leaving only his empty clothing to strike the ground.

Megan knew in her heart that they wouldn't find Chris.

Turkish-Syrian Border 40 Klicks South of Sanliurfa, Turkey Local Time 0958 Hours The 40mm grenade streaked across the battlefield, cutting through the smoke and the dust haze, and slammed into the center vehicle of the advancing three T-55 tanks. Orange flames rose in a whirling boil from the impact, then again as Eddie Ybarra's grenade struck home. Two other grenades, one from Cusack's weapon and one from Rusty Barnes's weapon in the Phoenix Two squad, struck the tank and tore the turret loose.

Goose broke the M-203 open, ejected the spent casing, then shoved another HE grenade into the launcher and closed the breech. Bringing the M-4A1 to his shoulder again, watching as the tanks on either side of the stricken vehicle split off, Goose sighted down the length of his weapon and elevated the barrel a little.

One of the T-55s in the second wave locked down and swiveled the turret toward the overturned troop transport where Goose was taking cover.

"Second target," Goose instructed. "Fire!" The assault rifle bucked against his shoulder and the thump of the grenade firing from the launcher sounded a heartbeat ahead of the round from the T-55's main gun.

"Incoming!" Henderson yelled.

At least, that was what Goose knew the man was going to yell before the detonation of the 105mm round filled his ears with the roar of an explosion only a few feet away. The dead husk of the troop transport took most of the impact. The violent rocking of the vehicle when the impact shivered through it made Goose think at first that the transport was going to fall over on him. He braced up against the vehicle, ready to throw himself clear. His fingers worked automatically, breaking the grenade launcher open and thumbing another HE round into the breech. Then he glanced around the still-quivering vehicle.

The Syrian soldiers who had been following the armored cav broke from their positions and streaked toward the Ranger line. Their AK-47s stuttered bull-roar chatter as they advanced.

As Goose brought the assault rifle to his shoulder again, he saw that the first grenade had sped true. Evidently the grenade had struck the T-55's right tread under the armored skirting and blew the track apart. The long metal clanked against the tank and ripped long tears through the skirting before the driver pulled the cav unit to a halt.

The T-55 Phoenix Two's squad had targeted had also lurched to a stop. One of the riskiest design problems with the Soviet tank was the placement of the hatch on the top rather than the rear or underneath. The Syrian crew tried to scramble free of the death trap the cav unit had become. One man raced for the back of the tank while another crawled through the hatch, leaving the other two crewmen in an undetermined state.

Another HE round exploded against the low-slung cupola. The explosion ripped the Syrian soldiers from the tank, throwing them several yards away.

Goose blinked dusty sweat from his eyes. The grainy bum in his eyes told him he hadn't gotten all of it. He aimed his weapon, peering through the open sights left under the mounted scope. He curled his finger over the trigger and squeezed.

The 40mm grenade hit the tank's cupola and exploded. The T-55 shivered slightly. Then the left tread churned again, and the vehicle sped around in a semicircle before the driver realized he was dead in the water.

Goose watched the Syrian soldiers spreading along the skirmish line the Rangers had posted along the scattered wrecks lining the Syrian side of the border.

"Phoenix Three, Four, and Five," Goose said as he fed the M-203 another HE round. Two grenades remained in the bandolier he carried.

The squads responded, letting him know they'd had no casualties.

The sharp, distinct report of the Barrett .50-cal sniper rifle cut through the noise of the diesel engines and clanking treads. One of the Syrian soldiers dropped where he stood, as if knocked aside by a gigantic fist. Almost immediately, the.50-cal banged again and another man went down.

"Three, Four, and Five," Goose called, "be advised that you have sweepers inside your perimeter. Take them down and hold the center."

"Affirmative, Phoenix Leader."

"Two," Goose went on, "we march to the rear. Cut off any retreat."

"On your go, Leader," Ybarra replied. "We're locked and loaded here."

Goose scanned his squad. Carruthers, Jansen, and Cusack were all standing, though they looked like dust-covered wraiths in their BDUs.

The three Rangers all nodded.

"Carruthers," Goose said, "you've got point. Jansen, you're walking slack. We're going to hump back to the rear and take out the T-72. They know we're not going to turn our artillery loose on them with squads in the field here."

"You got it, Sarge." Henderson held his assault rifle at the ready.

Goose opened the channel so all the squads could hear him. "One and Two are going to close the pincer. Three, Four, and Five, stand tall. Let's make a statement here, get back some of what we gave up this morning."

"Hoo-rah, Sarge!" Cusack yelled.

Goose rose to his feet from the crouch he'd taken cover in. "Go," he commanded.

Carruthers loped into the lead.

Goose followed the point man. His boots thudded against the spray of loose dirt spread over the hard-packed earth. The motion jarred him, awakening all the aches and bruises he'd acquired since morning, but he denied the pain's hold on him. He'd trained seventeen years for this moment, and he was exemplary at his craft.

While Carruthers negotiated the small maze of wrecked armored cav units and support vehicles that still held dead men sitting inside, two Syrian soldiers broke cover to the left. They were obviously fleeing the tanks where the Marine sniper was taking advantage of every target of opportunity. The big.50-cal rifle sounded like a basso drum rolling in the background.

"Down!" Carruthers yelled, going to cover.

Goose threw himself down and to the left. He shouldered his weapon by the time he hit the ground on his left side, recovered, and squeezed the M-4A1's trigger in three-round bursts. The hail of 5.56mm bullets caught the Syrian soldiers and drove them backward. Their heavier 7.62mm rounds cut the air over Goose's head.

"Up!" Goose commanded, surging to his feet and favoring his injured knee slightly.

His squad came up in unison. Cusack had a neat crease along his helmet where a round had deflected.

"Bucket saved your head," Jansen said.

"Yeah." Cusack reached up and adjusted his helmet. He looked a little pale.

Even after all the death the young Ranger had seen all morning, Goose knew death still became personal when it barely skated by. "Carruthers," he said. "Let's move."

The Rangers raced to the rear of the fire zone and took up a position behind a collection of boulders. Goose and Cusack held to the center while Jansen and Carruthers flared out on either side and slightly ahead to cover their position.

The T-72 looked like a goliath amidst the other Syrian vehicles. Two of the three jeeps stayed close to the large MBT. The third lay flipped over, fire only now starting to catch under the engine. One of the jeep's crew attempted to crawl away from the overturned four-by-four, then dropped abruptly. Goose understood the reason immediately when the .50-cal report rolled over his position.

"Two, Goose called. "Are you in position?"

"We're here, Leader."

Snarling like a great metallic beast, the T-72 fired into the mass of destruction lining the border where the Ranger squads battled the Syrian soldiers. Fully loaded, the Soviet-made tank carried forty-five rounds for its main gun, two more than the T-55s. There were also thousands of rounds for the 7.62 and 12.7mm light machine guns. Up and moving, able to fire while in motion, the T-72 was a juggernaut of destruction.

The Syrian tank crew knew the capabilities of their machine, and they were out to make the most of them. Confident of the thicker, layered armor the T-72 carried instead of the lighter armor the T-55s had, the tank drove straight into the teeth of Phoenix Three, Four, and Five.

"Cusack," Goose called.

"Yeah," the young Ranger replied.

"One round into the T-72," Goose said. "To get its attention."

Cusack held his weapon steady and fired. The 40mm grenade covered the ground in a split second and detonated in a wash of flames and smoke against the left side of the turret. Cusack kicked the spent casing free and thumbed another round in as the tank fired while rolling forward. The 40mm warhead only left a smudge of soot across the back of the tank.

"No penetration," Cusack said.

Less than a hundred feet away, the T-72 rumbled maniacally across the field of dead, collided with one of the disabled tanks left from the Ranger squads' earlier attacks, and knocked the T-55 aside. The tank fired, launching a 125mm round into the front of the derelict vehicles. Two wrecked jeeps and one cargo van shuddered and slid across the ground, leaving deep gouges in the earth for several feet.

Joel Carver, a private with Phoenix Four, took shrapnel through one shoulder that left him too injured to fight or even get himself clear. Phoenix Four had to pull back to take care of their wounded.

Eddie Ybarra's squad took out another T-55 with two grenades, leaving two plus the T-72. One of the surviving jeeps wheeled and came toward Goose's position, obviously tracking Cusack's shot.

"Didn't get the tank's attention," Jansen yelled, "but we've got people interested. Several Syrian soldiers turned in their direction as well.

Bullets peppered the rocks Goose and his squad used for cove ; He kept his head down but watched as the enemy approached.