and as the last rays of sunlight filter out of the sky, we come to a clearing and I see an old beater Jeep. It’s a four-seater at best, especially considering the size of the guys, but we pile in.
“Faster going out than in,” Nathan says to Francisco, who grins his jack-o-lantern smile. “Direct path?”
Francisco nods and points. “In.”
Francisco drives, Tweedle-Bigger in the passenger seat, leaving Nathan, Caleb, and Tweedle-Big in the back.
It’s a tight fit for the three of them, made even tighter when I perch in Nathan’s lap. If it weren’t so tight and all five of us didn’t smell like we’ve been hiking in the jungle, I might think it’s actually fun.
The ride back into town is blessedly short but extra-bumpy, and I find that I have to hold onto the metal bar above me to keep from bouncing out. Even still, I rap my knuckles between the bar and my head more than once, and I know I’m going to need a Tylenol later.
We finally hit a paved road and Francisco makes a turn, but Nathan speaks up. “No, take us straight to the airport. In Belem.”
Francisco looks back, surprise etched on his face. “You sure? It takes many hours to drive. Nikolai’s airstrip is closer. Your pilot can meet you there.”
Nathan shakes his head, determined. “Belem. We’ll both throw in our knives if you can make it happen. Consider them a tip for a job well done.”
Though it sounds like a kindness, I can sense that it’s a test too. If Francisco insists on returning to Nikolai’s airstrip, we can be sure that there will be nothing good waiting there for us.
But Francisco looks happy, a smile moving the lines of his tanned face. “Thanks, Norte.”
Francisco’s grin widens as he makes a call, speaking so fast I don’t understand a word until I hear him say ‘aeroporta’.
Nathan cuts his eyes to Caleb, who blinks slowly. They do have some weird blinking language going, and they understood at least most of what Francisco was saying.
It feels like we accomplished the mission we set out to do. The diamond is in Nathan’s backpack right now. But all of that will be for nothing if we don’t get out of here safely.
The airport in Belem is tiny, more of a private hangar and a long stretch of cleared grass and dirt. But there’s a small private jet sitting there, waiting on us.
There’s a black Land Rover too. As Francisco stops the Jeep and I give thanks to whatever spirits kept the decrepit thing together for so many hours, the Land Rover door opens and Nikolai steps out.
I can feel Nathan tense beneath me.
“You setting us up, Francisco?” Nathan asks through clenched teeth, his hand reaching for the knife still by his side.
Nikolai shakes his head, holding both hands up to show he’s unarmed.
But he hasn’t been the gun-toting threat the whole time, so the farce seems useless.
He calls across the small space, “Doing as I’m told. My father wanted visual proof that you were leaving.”
We get out of the Jeep, and almost as soon as our feet touch the ground, Francisco peels rubber as he floors it.
Okay, the rubber doesn’t peel out because I don’t think the Jeep could peel rubber even on its best day, but for a vehicle older than my mother, Francisco certainly jammed the pedal through the floorboard.
That doesn’t bode well, I think.
Caleb and I stay one step behind Nathan as he walks to Nikolai. They shake hands, but the tension is pulled taut between them.
Nikolai’s face is stone, his voice barely audible even to us. “Just a reminder that this is a one-time deal. Daddy ashes only.”
He says it calmly, but I wonder if he knows something.
To cover my nerves, I ask, “Where’s Maritziana?”
Nikolai laughs, his barrel chest shaking. “She is right where she wants to be, Kitty. She is a city girl. The closest she’ll come to Brazil is the Copacabana.”
I don’t like that he used the old name now that he knows my real one. It feels like a threat of sorts.
He’s evil incarnate in a way I wish I didn’t know existed, but when he talks about Maritziana, there’s a slight softness to his eyes like he does actually care for her.
I guess even Hades had his Persephone.
“You won’t hurt her.” I mean to say it like it’s an order, but the upward lilt to my voice at the end makes it sound like a question.