Four times they had to stop, as guards crossed their path, treading sleepily through the darkened camp. Once a guard started to walk directly toward a pair of Marines, crouching alongside a tent. Mclntyre sprang at the Komani’s back and feHed him with a savage chop at the neck.
“Is he dead?” Merdon whispered.
“Dunno … but he’ll be out for a good long time, at least.”
“Come on,” Merdon said. “The rain’s slackening. It’s starting to brighten up a little.”
Finally they reached Okatar’s golden dome. Light was streaming from the main entrance.
“There are two other entrances, on the other side of the tent,” Merdon said.
Mclntyre nodded to his men. ‘Two of you take each entrance. Gerry, you and Merdon come with me, through the main gate. Now get this straight, all of you; no Komani leaves that tent alive. Understand?”
They nodded.
The four Marines disappeared into the shadows. Mclntyre hunched down into a squat and surveyed the tent’s main entrance. A pair of guards stood tiredly leaning on their rifles.
“How many Komani will be inside?” the sergeant asked.
Merdon shrugged. “It depends. If Okatar has his full council in there, it might be twenty-five or thirty men.”
The Marines at the other two entrances signaled through their helmet radios that they were ready.
“Okay,” Mclntyre whispered. “Now!”
He got both the guards with a single sweeping blast from his beam rifle as they dashed out of the shadows and toward the entrance.
Inside, the tent suddenly looked deserted—a single large area, richly decorated and furnished—but empty of KomaniThen a grenade went off, somewhere on the other side of the tent.