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ERIC NYLUND
159
"Count on it," Linda replied and locked her dark green eyes
with John's.
He wondered if that's what her eyes looked like when she
sighted through the sniper scope. She never seemed to blink; she
always won in games of stare-down.
"After we get the flag," he continued, "Red Team will get out
of there. Watch for targets of opportunity and cover us. We ren-
dezvous at the LZ and hopefully no one finds us before then."
Fred nodded. Linda hefted her new rifle, which was almost
too large for her to look through the scope and rest the butt
against the hollow of her shoulder at the same time. "You'll be in
good hands."
John closed his eyes and ran over the details of his plan again
in his head. Yes—everything gelled; their odds were good. He
knew they'd win.
"Don't come out from hiding at the LZ until I give the
all-clear signal," he reminded them. "We could be captured...
they could make us talk."
They all nodded, remembering what Tango Company had
done to James. He "fell down a flight of stairs" as they had escorted
him from cell to cell in their single-story jail. James hadn't bro-
ken ... not mentally, at least. But John wished he had; it had
taken James a whole week to recover.
No—he took back that thought. He was glad James hadn't
broken. John would have tried to do the same.
John whistled the little six-note singsong tune Deja had
taught them—their all-clear signal. He stood, holstered his dart
pistol, and checked the three stun grenades on his belt. "I'll see
you at the LZ."