She led the way through the forest to put distance between them and the men at the burning compound. Bounding through the woods at a quick but safe pace, Miss Davis stayed right with her, matching her every move. Santana pumped her knees as she moved through the trees. Light and fast on her feet, she jumped over fallen logs, hopping over rocks and exposed tree roots.

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The slope steepened as they left the top of the ridge. Clouds had descended close to the ground, and they were now in a light rain. The water made their descent treacherous with slippery footing.

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With the wet and steepening terrain, Santana changed tactics. Short, choppy steps moving across the mountainside had them going fast while keeping their footing. Still hopping over obstacles, they would grab a tree to help swing them around in the opposite direction back across the slope.

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Making tight switchbacks, they descended. Santana's boot skidded off the top of a wet rock. She slipped backward, landed on her backside, and caught herself before rolling hard into a thick tree trunk.

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She sat still for a moment with her forearms on her knees, looking at the damp pine needles between her legs. Catching her breath, she shook her head, realizing that she had just taken a lucky fall. No damage was done. She had to focus and concentrate harder on her footwork down the steep mountainside.

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Bess Davis had matched her step for step and appeared in front of her with an extended hand. Santana accepted her help as Miss Davis pulled her back up on her feet.

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"Thanks for the hand. You're doing great. Staying right with me. Most importantly, not falling with me."

Bess Davis asked, "Why are you helping me?"

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"It's my job. They assigned me to rescue you. It's my honor to help my commander-in-chief and her family."

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"Are you military?"

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"Former Delta Force. Miss Davis, I need to know who those Asian men are?"

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Santana switched her microphone to open so Mateo could listen in.

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"I've met their leader before. His name's Chang. I thought he was there to rescue me."

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"Where did you meet him?"

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"I accidentally interrupted an intense meeting he was having with my sister, Grace, and Chang's boss, Han Li."

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"Are these guys Chinese?"

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"Yes, Han Li is a senior adviser to my sister. I know him well. He and Grace were former lovers back in school. He's brilliant, and my sister fell in love with his socialist ideas. Li answers directly to the leader of the Chinese Communist Party, President Chao."

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"And Chang?"

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"He's Li's muscle. Officially, Li's Chief of Security. Chang and his goon squad make people disappear. Do you remember the fiery car wreck that killed the leading Democrat contender last summer? His death paved the way for my sister to win the nomination. That was Li's plan, carried out by Chang. It was no accident. They murdered him."

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Santana sensed motion on the slope above. Several fist-size rocks crashing through the forest rolled by them. She saw shadowy figures coming toward them through the fog and rain.

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The men above began shooting their AKs toward the women.

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Santana shot off the last of the 9mm rounds. She tossed the lifeless bullpup onto the talus slope, which freed her right hand to dig into the scree and control her slide down the mountainside.

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            In the cover of the trees, Santana grabbed her Glock out of her pack. The clouds were producing a light rain now, and the temperature dropped as the cold front moved in. She snicked off the safety and looked at rainwater trickling down the 50-round drum magazine. The last of her ammunition.

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A burst of bullets splintered into the tree trunks just above them. A surge of strength starting in her core radiated out to her arms and legs. Santana squeezed off half the remaining magazine at the men above to buy them more time. Looking at the stunned Bess Davis, she said, "Down!"

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Bess Davis came to an abrupt stop and sat down, gripping the flexible trunk of a small aspen sapling. Santana jammed the heel of her Tony Buckskin into damp fallen aspen leaves to brake herself from colliding with Miss Davis.

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The roar of the Middle Fork of the Salmon River below them filled Santana's ears. Hanging on to her own aspen tree, she peered over the ledge in front of her. They had stopped themselves at the edge of a cliff with the river cutting into its bank 30 feet directly below them.

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She wiped off the rain that was running down her face to get a good look at the stream. Just upstream, whitewater was coursing down a steep section of the canyon, plunging over boulders that were peppered across the streambed. Large standing waves of falling water created the heart of the rapids. The slope of the canyon flattened at the foot of the whitewater, with the river forming a pool of calm, swirling water below them.

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"I know what we have to do," said Bess Davis. "You think there are rocks in that pool down there?"

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