“Wait, wait-” Tony dug in his heels while he shifted a camera to the front of his body so he could reach it more easily “-okay, now I’m ready.”

“Go!” Cory let go of the chair and hauled hard on the rope, and Tony swung out into thin air.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Sam asked nervously as she moved close to Cory’s side and took hold of the rope to help him pull. Even above the roar of the river they could hear a steady stream of profanity drifting back to them from the middle of the gorge.

“He’s a photographer,” Cory said, panting a little. “He’ll be fine once he remembers that camera around his neck. Those donkeys in Afghanistan? Didn’t want to get on those, either. Before it was over he was riding no-hands up these little narrow mountain trails, just so he could snap pictures of three-hundred-foot drop-offs. There-see? He’s clicking away already.”

They devoted their energies then to hauling on the rope, both of them watching Tony slide closer to the opposite bank and the empty loop swing toward them across the last few yards of the chasm.

“You’re next, Sam,” Cory said quietly between pulls, not looking at her. “No arguments.”

She didn’t reply. Together they caught the incoming swing and stood holding it between them as they watched Tony get his feet under him on the other side of the gorge, stand and wrestle the loop over his head, then give a triumphant wave.

Cory said, “Sam?”

She threw him a long dark look, one he couldn’t read. Then, moving jerkily with the anger that he knew really wasn’t anger, she thrust her head and arms through the loop and hitched herself onto the bamboo seat. “Any time, Pearse,” she said airily, her chin high, eyes bright with challenge.

He caught his breath…then cupped the back of her head in his palm and leaned down and kissed her. Just once, quickly and hard, but still he felt her lips tremble under his and a shaft of pain went through him, so acute he nearly gasped. “Hold on tight,” he mumbled, stepping back. Feeling as though his heart had lodged in his chest, he took hold of the rope and began to pull.

As she slipped out over the edge of the chasm, rotating slowly, almost lazily in midair, the sun rose at last above the mountaintops and, as if by some stroke of magic, a rainbow appeared between them, painted in the mist thrown up by the rampaging river. The incredible beauty of it-and at the same time an overwhelming sadness-caught at his throat. He wanted to call to her, wave…bring her back and touch her…hold her…kiss her one more time.

But she didn’t look back.

It wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it would be. Kind of cool, in fact-if she didn’t allow herself to think about al-Rami’s men back there, searching for them somewhere in the jungle, not that far away. And about Cory left behind in that same jungle, a few short yards and half a world away from her, on the other side of the chasm.

She could still feel the imprint of his mouth, a tingle of warmth and moisture that seemed burned into her flesh. She could still see his eyes, in that last moment before she’d turned away from him to lasso herself into this ridiculous swing…those deep, dark blue eyes that could see right through her. She’d be able to see him now, if she let herself, if she rotated that way just a little…but she didn’t do it. She couldn’t bear to see him getting smaller and smaller, the gulf between them wider and wider…couldn’t shake the panicky feeling that he was slipping away from her, that soon he’d be far beyond her reach. So instead she focused on Tony, hauling away on the rope on the far side of the gorge, grinning at her, his teeth white in his mahogany-colored face…

She was halfway across the gorge-she knew that because she’d just drawn even with the returning empty swing-when she heard the shout. From out of the jungle came a wordless bellow of anguish first, and then Hal’s voice, raw and broken, calling his wife’s name.

Sam got the swing turned around in time to see Cory straighten and let go of the pulley rope, then spin toward the direction of the shouts, lurching off balance like someone who’d taken a bullet. Yelling at Tony over his shoulder to keep on pulling, he plunged into the jungle.

No! She thought she must have screamed it out loud, but it was only inside her head, the word rebounding and resounding there in a nightmare of echoes and alarms. By the time she reached the terminal stump she was muttering and scolding furiously and slapping at Tony’s clumsy attempts to help her out of the rope swing, shaking and half-paralyzed with fear. All she could think about was that her worst nightmare was coming true, the gulf of misunderstanding between her and Cory had become tangible and real. Seeing him disappear into that jungle, the thought that she might not ever see him again was unbearable. Unthinkable.

“What the holy hell’s going on?” Tony’s face hovered over hers, shiny with sweat. He was breathing hard. “I heard shouting. Where are the missionaries? Where’d Cory-”

“I don’t know. I think something’s happened to Esther. She didn’t come, and Hal went to find her.” Sam spoke rapidly, her voice low and furious. Her chest felt tight, as though there were chains wrapped around it, so she couldn’t get a breath. “I don’t know what, but something’s wrong. Cory heard Hal shouting and went back to help.”

Her voice broke on the last word as she yanked the rope loop out of Tony’s hands and threw it back over her head. Of course he did. Doesn’t he always? Just like that day on the lake…he goes diving in after Dad…doesn’t stop to think he might die, too.

“What are you doing? Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Tony was tugging on the rope and trying to hang on to her at the same time, bracing his feet as if he was engaged in a child’s game of tug-of-war.

“I’m going back,” Sam said tersely, jerking ineffectively at the rope; she was shaking too hard to have any real strength in her arms and legs. “He’s-God knows what’s going on back there. Al-Rami’s men-they could be-they must have heard-Let me go, damn you-I have to help him. I have to-”

And then somehow she was enfolded in Tony’s arms, still shaking and muttering furiously against the solid wall of his chest, and his arms were more walls all around her, holding her in, holding her prisoner, yes, but holding her steady, too. Bracing her. Comforting her. Calming her. They were amazingly gentle, too, those massive arms, for someone so tough and brawny-looking.

“I can’t let you go back there.” Tony’s voice was ragged and filled with gravel. “He’d kill me if I did, you know he would. Why do you think he sent us over first? He wanted us safe, that’s why. Dammit, Sam…”

Steadier now, she nodded, then lifted her hands, formed them into fists and let them fall with restrained violence against Tony’s chest. “Why does he always have to do that?” she said in a low, furious voice. “Why does he think it’s all up to him? Who appointed him everybody’s keeper? He’s always doing that to me-trying to take care of me. Like I’m a little child and he’s responsible for me.”

Tony eased her away from him, but cautiously, still holding her by the arms. He cleared his throat and looked past her, frowning, yes, but at the same time his pit-bull features had arranged themselves into something softer, something she couldn’t read. “Maybe,” he mumbled, “he’s got good reason for being that way.”

A little shiver ran down her spine as she stared at him, and she opened her mouth, questions poised on her tongue. But instead a shout had them both jerking around in time to see three people emerge from the jungle-Cory first, then Hal, carrying Esther in his arms.

“Oh, God…” Sam breathed the prayer as she and Tony sprang forward simultaneously and grabbed hold of the pulley rope.

On the other side of the gorge, Cory had taken Esther from Hal, and the older man was struggling to get himself into the swing. Sam saw him brace his feet, then give a nod, and Cory bend over and place Esther in his arms, as gently and effortlessly as if she’d been a small child, or perhaps a doll.

Cory gave a shout and a wave, and he and Tony and Sam all began hauling with all their strength on the rope. Rotating dizzily, the frail-looking swing with both Lundquists aboard lurched out over the chasm. Sam’s attention was focused on that swaying swing and its precious cargo, on pulling as hard as she could on the rope, so she didn’t notice at first that Cory’s attention was elsewhere, that he kept looking over his shoulder, back toward the jungle. Then she heard crashing sounds and knew her worst fear had only now been realized.

Hal’s single shout of fear and anguish had brought al-Rami’s men back.

Sam’s heart leaped into her throat and stayed there. Fear was a living thing, a great black monster, choking her, weighing her down, tying her muscles in knots. It took every ounce of strength she had just to fight against the fear, force her screaming muscles to pull…pull…keep pulling. And still, it seemed, the Lundquists moved toward her with agonizing slowness…advancing across the chasm only inch by inch.

The Lundquists had reached the middle of the gorge. They were passing the returning empty swing. Beside her Sam could hear Tony’s grunts of effort and labored breathing and knew he was straining as hard as she was. Just a little more, she thought. Hang on, Cory…just a few more yards…

The gunshots didn’t sound like much-several quick pops, muted by the noise of the rushing river. But across the gorge, Cory seemed to stumble. Then, almost in slow motion, he crumpled to the ground.

No! A shaft of pain…blinding, white-hot agony…ripped through her, as if the bullet had torn through her flesh. Then came darkness. Stillness. She didn’t hear herself scream, she only felt it, as if someone was ripping her heart out through her throat.