Two hundred fifty meters.
And falling.
Inside the command center of Atlas Base, nobody spoke.
Every pair of eyes remained fixed on the thermal display.
Thirty heat signatures.
Still advancing.
Still moving toward Tomas's position.
The Predator's infrared camera had zoomed in as much as possible, but the dense forest canopy made identification difficult.
The contacts appeared as bright orange silhouettes weaving through the trees.
They moved slowly.
Deliberately.
And worst of all, they weren't making random sweeps.
They were following a line.
A path.
One that would lead them directly to the observation post.
Marcus stared at the screen.
His mind raced.
Two possibilities.
The first was coincidence.
The patrol simply happened to be heading toward the ridge.
The second possibility was much worse.
They had somehow detected the team.
He didn't like either option.
"Tomas."
The radio immediately answered.
"Go ahead."
"Hold position."
A brief pause followed.
