Debris cascaded everywhere and Tanner turned and came back wearily. He eased the Major higher on the dyke and found a tin of cigarettes. His hand shook as he lit one.

"Are we hit?" Campbell managed to croak.

"So it would appear, Laird."

"Dear God." Campbell's hands moved over his chest. "The Bible," he whispered.

"Dinna fash yourself, Laird, I'll hold it safe for you."

Tanner took it from the map pocket and then all sounds faded for Campbell, all color, nothing now but quiet darkness.

In Chungking, Mountbatten and Stillwell were examining on the map the relentless progress of the advancing Japanese, who had already overrun most of the Allied airfields in eastern China.

"I thought we were supposed to be winning the war," Stillwell said.

Mountbatten smiled ruefully. "So did I."

Behind him, the door opened and an aide entered with a signal flimsy. "Sorry to bother you, sir, but this is from Delhi-marked urgent."

Mountbatten read it then swore softly. "All right, you can go."

"The aide went out. Stillwell said, "Bad news."

"The Dakota Campbell was traveling in lost an engine and crashed just outside Delhi. It fireballed after landing. By all accounts, the documents and my dispatches went with it."

"Is Campbell dead?"

"No, that Corporal of his managed to get him out. All the crew were killed. It seems Campbell received a serious head injury. He's in a coma."

"Let's hope he hangs in there," Stillwell said. "Anyway, something of a setback for you, your Chungking Covenant going up in flames. What will you do? Try to get Mao to sign another one?"

"I doubt if I'll ever get close enough to him again. It was always an anything-is-better-than-nothing situation. I didn't really expect much to come out of it. Anyway, in my experience, Chinese seldom give you a second bite at the cherry."