a light flashed on the lake, but her attention was consumed by more gunshots. She and Rondi had reached the first row of cornstalks when the fusillade began. Rondi pushed her ahead as the bullets chewed up the ground at their feet, then struck flesh.
“Go,” Rondi gasped, as a half-dozen rounds tore up his back.
Elise felt a sting in her arm as she staggered forward. Her eyes tracked Rondi as he fell in a heap. She kept moving, driven by the clatter of automatic rifle fire and her pounding heart. The gunfire ceased for a moment as one shooter ran closer, then fired again. Bullets whizzed over Elise’s head and shredded the cornstalks beside her.
She diced through the rows, feeling woozy as blood dripped down her arm. She was in no condition for a footrace. As she jumped over a small irrigation ditch, she saw a pile of dried husks in a clearing. Elise burrowed in like a rat, tucked into a fetal position, and froze.
In the distance came the screams of others and more bursts of gunfire. But it was the closer sound of swishing cornstalks that made her hold her breath. Heavy footsteps entered the clearing, then paused. The crunch of husks underfoot told Elise the killer was circling the pile.
A shrill whistle sounded from the camp’s direction. The gunman hesitated, then fired a short burst into the husks. He waited and watched for movement, then turned and bolted for the camp.
Under the husks, Elise fought to keep from trembling. Dried stalks near her face had disintegrated under the gunfire. Somehow she escaped harm. The footfalls had retreated. Was the killer waiting? She could do nothing but lie as still as possible, taking slow, shallow breaths.
Minutes passed. She heard a car start and drive away. She waited a bit longer, then began inching from beneath the stalks. Light-headed from blood loss, she fought to keep from passing out. She was nearly free of the pile when she heard a rustling. She tried to scramble back under the husks. It was too late.
“Elise?”
She turned to see Pitt step into the clearing. He rushed to her side and pulled her from the pile.
“Looks like you got a little nicked up.” He tore off his shirt and wrapped it around her arm to stem the flow of blood.
“Two gunmen attacked the camp,” she rasped. “They shot Phil and the others.”
“Who were they?”
Elise shook her head, and her eyes turned glassy. Pitt slipped his arm under her and raised her to her feet. She regained her balance, and he led her to the shore, where Giordino came from the camp.
“Anyone else?” Pitt asked.
Giordino shook his head.
“Rondi? What about Rondi?” Elise asked.
Giordino just stared at the ground.
“No . . .” she moaned, tears welling in her eyes. She sagged against Pitt.
“She needs medical attention,” he said. “Best to take her by boat back to Suchitoto.”
Elise stirred. “The water sample.”
Pitt and Giordino looked at her quizzically as she patted the satchel around her neck and passed it to Giordino.
“Please hold on to this. Keep it safe.” She barely got the words out before losing consciousness and falling limp into Pitt’s arms.
* * *
• • •
A HALF MILE AWAY, a woman in the passenger seat of an idling black Jeep watched the exchange through binoculars.
“They aren’t police. They don’t even appear to have weapons.” She cursed. “The woman is still alive and just gave them a satchel.”
“I lost her in the cornfield,” said the driver, a square-jawed man with cropped black hair. “You called me off before I could find her.”
“I saw a flashing light on the boat. I thought they were police.” She shook her head. “I was fooled.”
“We still have all of their computers.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. The backseat was littered with half-melted laptops. “If it’s a concern, let’s go back and finish the job.”
“It’s too late, they’re returning to the boat. But it does appear the woman is wounded.”
“There’s only one place they can take her for medical treatment. Suchitoto.”
“Yes.” She lowered the binoculars and flashed him an angry look. “If we want to be there to greet them, then I suggest you step on it.”
5
With its twin outboards churning the water at maximum revolutions, the workboat leaped across the shrunken reservoir at close to forty knots. Elise had regained consciousness soon after Pitt had carried her onto the boat’s deck. He broke open a medical kit and applied clean bandages to her wounds, while Giordino steered for