He saw Emma burst from the trees to the left of the runway. Her arms and legs were pumping in a smooth, coordinated rhythm. She ran fast and efficiently, whipping down the side of the airstrip, chewing up the pavement. A man was chasing her, but it was clear he couldn’t hold on. Sumner watched the man stagger sideways, bend over, and put his hand on his knees, his chest heaving.
The helicopter’s radio crackled, and a voice barked at him in Spanish.
“This is Officer Lopez of Air Tunnel Denial, Colombia. Your aircraft is unregistered and has been deemed to be of suspicious origin. Please identify yourself.”
Sumner grabbed at the radio. “Officer Lopez? It’s me, Cameron Sumner. I’ve hijacked a para’s copter and I’m under fire.”
“Señor Sumner? You live!”
Bullets hammered into the copters skids. Sumner yanked the copter to the other side.
“Not for long if I don’t get out of here. Where the hell am I?”
“You are east of Cartagena along the Venezuelan border.”
“Report my coordinates to the guys in Key West.”
Sumner swung the chopper around and flew back the other way. He circled the runway and lined up. He flew the copter straight down the runway, nose down and tail up, remaining fifteen feet off the ground. He headed right for the men, who screamed and leaped sideways as the copter flew into them. Sumner slowed a bit, but as he came even with Emma, he watched her grab the copter’s landing skids. She wrapped her arms around them.
The copter tilted sharply left with the added weight, but Sumner corrected and continued forward. They were twenty feet from the tree line, heading for it, when the rocket-propelled grenade took out the tail.
33
LUIS WATCHED AS TWO MEMBERS OF THE FFOC DRAGGED THE tall man and a woman into camp. They were tied at the wrists and lashed together with ropes. Scratches covered the left side of the tall man’s face, and the pinkie finger on his left hand jutted out at an unnatural angle. His left arm bore a gruesome road rash, as if he’d been dragged across gravel. All of the scratches and gouges bled freely. Despite it all, he still walked with his characteristic efficiency of motion. The man scanned the camp, his eyes coming to rest on Jorge’s head, which had been placed on a stick at the edge of the forest, near the passengers. Luis had put it there as a warning to them. He liked the way it focused their fear.
The woman with the tall man looked like a wild creature. Mud covered her skin and her hair hung in thick oily clumps that resembled long snakes. Even filthy and covered with mud, Luis could tell that she was beautiful. Her eyes were cat-shaped and a vibrant green, and they sparked with anger while she scanned the camp. Luis knew that if she smiled she would show the straight white teeth that he thought of as the hallmark of an American. She wore cargo pants and running shoes of an indeterminate color, and on her back was a grimy backpack.
She stood as straight and unbending as the tall man, and moved just as easily. Her gaze came to rest on Jorge’s head and skittered away. Luis noted that she didn’t appear surprised to see the head, and also appeared not as afraid of it as he would have liked.
He walked up to them. As he did he kept an eye on the woman, waiting to see if she would shrink in fear at his commanding presence. She looked at him in a straightforward way, showing no particular fear of him, and no respect. It was then that Luis decided to break her.
“So, we finally find the woman responsible for stabbing two of my men and causing many more to desert,” Luis said.
The woman locked eyes with him, as if she were his equal.
He slapped her with an open hand. The sound of his palm hitting her cheekbone cracked through the camp. She staggered sideways. She regained her balance and looked at him again. This time anger shone in her eyes, but still no fear.
He hit her again.
She staggered sideways again, this time leaning into the tall man, who braced himself and managed to keep her standing. She raised her eyes again to Luis. She still showed no fear, just anger. It was as if the anger was a waterfall, flowing out of her. Something about it bothered Luis. The anger seemed unrelated to him. As if it came from a deep place inside of her and had nothing to do with the present.
Luis was a superstitious man. While he never believed in the El Chupacabra nonsense that his men babbled about, he did believe in demons, ghosts, bad luck, and evil portents. Something about this woman, and her proximity to the tall man, made a feeling of inevitability wash over him. It was an emotion that he did not like. He refused to label it. If he were a lesser man, he would have ended this operation two days ago, when he’d learned that the Cartone cartel was after him. But Luis was not weak. He refused to bend. He would see this operation to a successful conclusion in spite of these two worthless gringos. He would kill them both, after breaking them. He would triumph over it all.
Alvarado touched his arm. Luis snapped out of his reverie.
“What do you want?”
“The FFOC soldiers have news. They want to meet with you.”
“Tie him to that tree.” Luis indicated a tree in the middle of the camp. “We’ll have some fun with her later, eh?”
The men laughed as they dragged the prisoners away.
When they reached the main tent, Alvarado delivered the bad news. “The FFOC want you to bring the hostages south, Luis, especially the woman.”
Luis felt his blood pressure rise. The lying, cheating bastards wanted to take his prisoners away.
“I won’t do it.” Luis’s voice was flat.
“You must do it. They have sent thirty of their best men here to find and kill you if you don’t.”
“They will try to kill me either way, Alvarado, you know that. And why the woman, eh? What’s so special about her? I refuse to give them my only bargaining chip. Never! The deal was I march them north, guard them, and get twenty percent of the ransom money. If they are so afraid of the gringos, then they should never have pinched their tail in the first place.”
“It’s not just the gringos that come, Luis. The Cartone cartel and the other paramilitary groups have taken back their weapons and are coming for us also. None of them wants to be extradited to the United States. The army comes, too. They want the aid from the United States restored. Without it, they do not get paid. We need to get the passengers out of here. It’s safer in the south.”
“And how do they intend to move them? Seventy people? It’s taken us days to get this far.”
“They are sending the planes. Interrupting their own business. This tells you how serious they are.”
“Planes! Are they crazy? They’ll be shot down in a matter of minutes.”
“Time is short. They say the others are arming and already have three helos in the air.”
Luis paced back and forth. He pointed a finger at Alvarado. “We stay here tonight. I’ll kill the tall man, and tomorrow morning we march to Panama, to the sea. We are not far now. We will sell the hostages there.”
Luis stalked out of the tent.
34
MIGUEL KNEW HE’D HIT THE FIRST CHECKPOINT WHEN THE TRAIL ended at a dirt road covered with tire tracks. They had been hiking for almost three days. He gave the men a rest and picked up his field phone. To his surprise, he had a message from Banner as well as Señor Lopez at the Air Tunnel Denial station. He called the Air Tunnel man first.
“Major Miguel? We had a suspicious aircraft sighting in your area. We believed it was a helicopter, flying low. When we attempted to establish contact, Mr. Sumner spoke back to us.”
“Cameron Sumner, in a helicopter? What did he say?” Miguel felt an adrenaline surge. It was about time they had a break.
“He had stolen the helicopter and was under fire. Within seconds, all contact was broken.”
Miguel’s mood crashed. “Was he able to give you any idea of where he was?”
“I have the actual coordinates. May I give them to you?”
Miguel’s mood rose again. “Have I said what an excellent program the Air T
unnel people run?”
A chuckle came over the line. “We do our best, Major Miguel. We do our best.”
Miguel called Banner at Darkview and waited while the receptionist routed the call elsewhere. When Banner finally came on the line, his news was not as uplifting as Lopez’s.
“Margate pulled the plug on aid to Colombia until the passengers are returned safely. He’s demanding extradition.”
“There goes the deal,” Miguel said.
“Right.”
“Any news on the paras’ response?”
“The Cartone cartel is hunting Rodrigo to kill him, the other paramilitary guys are hunting the Cartone cartel, Rodrigo, and the FFOC to kill them, and the Colombian military has orders to shoot on sight. They’re all converging on your area.”
“And the passengers?”
“Caught in the middle. These guys kill. None of them has any experience in actually saving people. I wouldn’t count on any passengers surviving the shit storm that’s coming your way. So get the hell out of there. It’s going to be raining fire in your area in the next twenty-four hours.”
“You want me to pack up and go? Just like that?” Miguel was astonished.
“I don’t want it, the Colombian government does. When Margate pulled the plug on aid, the Colombian president demanded an immediate withdrawal of all U.S. military personnel in Colombia. He said that any further search and rescue will be conducted by the Colombian army.”
“You said I have twenty-four hours. If that’s all I get, then I need more backup. I need a guy, a leader, who can do what it takes without me being there to hold his hand. The guys I have here are good, but too young to be of help.”
“Margate refused any additional assistance. I can’t overrule him, and even if I could, I’m not sure I want to. I’d be putting whatever poor slob I picked into a death trap.”
“Banner?”
“Yes?”
“Where are you? How do you feel about coming back into the field?”
The silence on the end of the line was almost palpable.
“I’ll get back to you,” Banner said. Then he hung up.
Miguel mapped out the coordinates. “He’s ten miles away, due north.”
“Did Sumner say if Ms. Caldridge was with him?” Kohl hated the idea of leaving the path and heading up the road. He was sure Ms. Caldridge had continued through the jungle.
“He did not.” Miguel sat back on his heels. “I know this landing strip. It’s on the Air Tunnel map.” He hauled out the ATD’s map showing the known landing strips. “There’s a second near an abandoned training center for Colombian military.”
“Maybe it’s not abandoned now. Maybe it’s filled with passengers,” Kohl said.
“Maybe. The good news is that I think I know how to get there. The bad news is that it’s back down the path. It’s a switchback that cuts in about five miles from here.”
Kohl groaned. “Five miles on that path will take us another day.”
Miguel hit him on the shoulder. “We have a direction, Kohl.”
“What about Ms. Caldridge?”
“The human race car? Don’t worry about her. She’s probably run all the way to Cartagena by now.”
35
EMMA SAT NEXT TO SUMNER, WHO WAS TIED AGAINST THE TREE, and watched the sentry walk around the wooden watchtower. Every so often the man took a hit off a flask he kept in his boot. He’d swallow the liquid, smack his lips, and spit down to the ground. Once it got dark, he put his rifle on the parapet and jumped down. He put the liquor bottle next to four others that sat open in a row on the ground. He waved at Emma, giving a guttural order in Spanish.
“He wants you to help build a fire,” Sumner translated.
Emma rose wearily and assisted three male passengers to start a fire. The passengers’ clothes were soaking wet. One coughed while he shoved dried sticks under a collection of wood, some of it still wet. While the passengers worked stacking the wood in a large pyramid, Emma walked to the edge of the camp collecting dried weeds. She’d pull a few, then push them under the sticks for kindling. She concentrated her weed-searching efforts close to the open bottles of aguardiente. Each time she returned to the bottles, she pulled a seed pod from her cargo pants’ pockets, hit it with a stone to break it open, and dropped it in the liquor. By the time the bonfire was burning, Emma had managed to fill the bottles undetected. The flames lit the night sky. She would have enjoyed her first dry heat in days if it wasn’t for her fear of being thrown on it in some awful sacrificial manner. She didn’t trust Rodrigo.
“He’s insane, isn’t he?” Emma whispered to Sumner when she returned to sit next to him.
“I think so, yes.” Sumner’s voice was bleak.
“He isn’t the leader, you know. Smoking Man in the shirtsleeves at the airstrip was.”
“Rodrigo couldn’t lead his way out of a paper bag.”
Mathilde sauntered over. She stopped in front of Sumner, tossed her hair, and struck a pose.
Sumner ignored her.
She sneered at Emma. “So, you and your lover meet mine, eh? He is one of the best leaders in the north. When this mission is done, all of Colombia will know his name.”
Mathilde eyed her fingernails as she spoke. Emma had the distinct impression that she didn’t give a damn about Rodrigo. All she cared about was his upward mobility.
“I feel sorry for you, Mathilde. A woman with your intelligence and looks stuck in this hellhole of a jungle. You deserve better.” Emma accompanied these words with a sigh, as if Mathilde’s situation was truly tragic to her.
Mathilde bristled. “I don’t need your”—she appeared to search for the right word in English—“sorry.”
“You have the opportunity to change your situation right now. But”—Emma shrugged—“if you like the jungle so much…”
“What opportunity do I have?”
Emma narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps you would like to trade, eh?”
Mathilde looked at Emma in surprise. “What do you mean? You have nothing to trade.”
Emma leaned forward in what she hoped appeared to be a friendly, conspiratorial way, like two girlfriends, chatting.
“I’ll trade my lover for yours. It is not an even trade, because mine is much more valuable to you, but yours has me prisoner, so right now he has some value to me.”
Mathilde looked at Emma as though she’d gone mad. Sumner raised an eyebrow at Emma as if to say, What the hell? Emma acted as though the conversation was routine.
“My lover works with the Air Tunnel Denial program. If you free him, it will be a sign of your good faith. He could pull strings to get you a deal under the disarmament, with no extradition. You could get out of here for good.”
Sumner shot an appalled glance at Emma. Emma kept her eyes on Mathilde.
Mathilde gave a toss of her head. “The disarmament deal is not offered to Rodrigo, only to the far right.”
“Sumner could speak to his superiors here and in the United States. Get them to make an exception for you. After all, you weren’t really involved in the hijacking with Rodrigo. Why should you suffer for his mistakes?”
Mathilde turned to Sumner. “What do you say to this?”
Sumner said nothing, but it appeared that this time staying silent was taking a huge toll on him. He looked as though he was gritting his teeth.
“Ah, yes, I remember. He is mute, this man of yours.”
“Isn’t that the best type of man?” Emma shot back.
Mathilde laughed out loud. Then she caught herself. “It won’t work. He would whine to the authorities that he’d been forced to make the deal, and they would extradite me.”
“Not if I’m part of the deal,” Emma said.
“What do you mean?” Mathilde seemed curious, in spite of herself.
“He agrees to get you a no-extradition deal and make it stick; and you free him and lead him out of the jungle.”
“Do you think I’m a fool? He would kill me and leave.�
��
“Not if I stay here. He knows Rodrigo would kill me in retaliation.”
Mathilde leaned forward. “Rodrigo will kill you either way.”
“Then I will only agree to get you a no-extradition deal if you agree to free Emma during the night,” Sumner said. “Once she is free, I will leave with you and speak to the authorities.” He spoke soft and low, but both women jerked in surprise.
Mathilde straightened and stared at Sumner. Emma could almost see the gears turning in the woman’s head. Before Mathilde could reply, Rodrigo stormed out of a nearby tent. Alvarado and the other guerrillas followed at a slower pace.
Rodrigo’s face shone with sweat, and his eyes were crazier than normal. Emma didn’t think it possible for the man to look even more psychopathic than he already had, but there he stood, breaking new ground.
Rodrigo waved at his men and spoke in Spanish. Emma felt Sumner’s body jerk next to her.
“What did he say?” Emma watched as the guerrillas untied Sumner.
“He said to move me from the tree. He needs a clear shot.”
Before Emma could react, Rodrigo marched up to her and kicked her in the leg.
“Why do the gringos want you so much?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Emma tried to keep her voice from cracking.
“Liar.” Luis smiled, his lips stretching so far as to show his gums, the edges blackened from rot. The light from the fire flickered, turning his eye sockets into black holes. Emma didn’t have a lot of experience dealing with Rodrigo, but she knew that what made him smile was not good.
Sumner sat next to her, watching the proceedings with a grim look. Emma watched his eyes flick over the crowd as if he, too, was reaching for options, trying to plan a way out of the camp.
“Tell me, or I’ll shoot your friend and leave him to bleed to death in front of you.” Rodrigo raised a gun in Sumner’s direction. He pointed the gun at Sumner’s temple. Sumner stilled.
The guerrillas passed around the bottles of aguardiente and started murmuring, chanting something in Spanish over and over again. It wasn’t hard for Emma to figure out that they were saying “kill him.”
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