He punched the button.

"I'm a little busy. I'll call you back."

"Did you get him?" Raymond Danner asked.

"I shot the dog."

"Dead?"

"I'm not sure. Marrok got in my way at the last minute."

Silence. "You shot Marrok?"

"No," he said quickly. "I was trying to lure him into a trap, but then the soldiers-"

Danner began to curse. "My God, can't you do anything right? I even told you where Marrok and the dog would be tonight. All you had to do was go in and get them."

"I was waiting on the other side of the mountain where all the other rescue teams were working. He didn't go where you said he was going. I had to reposition." He quickly added, "But I'll stake out the area and watch for the helicopter. There are military units all over this mountain, so he may not be able to get the copter back into the area. If the dog's not dead, he'll have to get help for it. Don't worry, Marrok won't get away from me."

"I'm not worried. I'm pissed. That damn savage Marrok was a SEAL and has wriggled his way out of a dozen traps. You had a chance if you took him by surprise. I want the job done before Marrok leaves that disaster site." Danner hung up.

Kingston pressed the disconnect. He could feel his heart pounding. He'd seen Danner angry before and the results weren't pretty. He liked to make examples that stayed in the memories of the men around him.

Move. Avoid those soldiers.

Find Marrok.

Find the dog.

"WAKE UP, DEVON." NICK WAS SHAKING her. "I just got a call from Captain Ramirez. They're bringing in a wounded dog to the first-aid tent."

Devon Brady shook her head to clear it of sleep. Lord, she felt groggy. She'd worked with her dog, Gracie, searching for survivors until almost midnight. She glanced at the clock. It was after two. "I thought I was the last one to break for the night. Whose dog was hurt? Jerry? His shepherd has a history of hip injuries."