The bottom of the draw was covered with trees and brush. He smelled the acid, stronger now. It was darker in these low places, and he had to move carefully into a stand of shoulder high plants. He stopped and looked closely at the leaves; his employer would get double information for the money. In Viet Nam, he had survived on knowledge, caution, and instinct--now he must survive again. He looked around. There was no way around this patch. He must go through to the top of the draw, so he could confirm his suspicion about the smell. He moved forward slowly, examining the ground. He wished now for the rifle, even a knife. After several minutes, when he was halfway through the patch, he felt a thin wire with his hand. He followed it with his fingers until he touched the metal cylinder, concealed in a clump of grass. A fragmentation grenade. Backing away, he worked to the right until he passed the trap.

Still, he moved cautiously, praying that the top of the draw would show another way back. Sweat soaked his kerchief, and mosquitoes buzzed and stung him while chiggers started on his ankles. He ignored the itching, and fought the urge to slap the mosquitoes. Sudden movements and noise might get him killed.

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