to Brodie, “He says we don’t need to know the time where we’re going.”
Brodie didn’t know where they were going, or where this was going, but he could imagine a gang rape and a double murder if Emilio was not under the control of Kyle Mercer. Or even if Emilio was, he might decide that he had first dibs on Mrs. Bowman.
Brodie realized that when your last best hope is a psychotic killer, you’ve really hit bottom. So… it was time to throw the dice, as he’d done in Petare. He said, “We are here—”
“Cállate!”
“—to speak to Señor Kyle.”
Emilio looked at him, then at the five other men. Then he snapped something at Taylor, who refused to respond except to say, “Señor Kyle. Ahora.” Now.
Well, the bird-watcher bullshit was now down the toilet, but that got them to the next level, away from these guys. Maybe.
Emilio didn’t seem to know what to do next, but like every soldier he knew how to cover his ass, so he pulled a walkie out of his pocket, said something, listened, and shoved the walkie back in his pocket. He said something to his men, who got their rifles at the ready, then gestured to Brodie and Taylor to follow him.
Emilio walked to the end of the platform and descended a narrow ramp made of tightly-woven bamboo that creaked with each step he took—a sort of primitive early warning that someone was coming. Brodie wondered if this was Pemón technology, or Delta Force training. He was sure that everyone here was learning from everyone else in Captain Mercer’s camp. Most importantly, Brodie was sure now that Emilio and his men were not freelance crazies; they were organized crazies, commanded by a psychotic. And that was the good news, which showed how fast you could lower your expectations.
Emilio led the way onto a narrow jungle path, followed by his prisoners, who were followed by his five men with AK-47s.
Brodie recalled that the Code of Conduct stressed a soldier’s duty to escape from captivity, and every escape and evasion course strongly advised that you do so in the very early stages of your captivity—while you were still psychologically and physically fit, and before you were starved, beaten, or restrained in a POW camp. Captain Mercer knew that too, but apparently had not acted on that advice, which resulted in two years in a Taliban hell. The E&E course also pointed out that your place of capture would probably be close to a place where you could reach the safety of friendly forces or the relative safety of no-man’s-land. And finally, you were reminded that the frontline soldiers who captured you were not trained to deal with prisoners—which all sounded good in theory, and which was actually true in the case of these six jokers, who hadn’t even bound their wrists or blindfolded them.
And on the subject of blindfolds, as Carmen and everyone knew, if you were blindfolded, that could mean your captors were going to let you live—or at least consider it. But if you saw everything you weren’t supposed to see, that would be the last thing you saw.
All things considered, maybe Mr. and Mrs. Bowman didn’t want to meet Kyle Mercer. Maybe this was Warrant Officers Brodie and Taylor’s last opportunity to make a break for freedom, before they got into the bowels of Mercer’s camp.
The jungle here was thick and offered good concealment, but not much cover from AK-47 fire. Also, the jungle wasn’t made for sprinting. Still… He said to Taylor in a low whisper, “When I say break, you break right and I break left, and we run a zigzag. We can lose these guys.”
“We can’t outrun a bullet.”
“We’re betting they want live prisoners and will hold their fire and pursue.”
“Bad bet.”
Emilio looked over his shoulder. “Silencio.”
Taylor ignored him and said to Brodie, “Whatever we do, we are not splitting up.”
“Doubles our chances—”
“Cállate!” Emilio looked very pissed and drew Brodie’s Glock and pointed it at him.
Taylor said something to Emilio and he seemed to calm down.
They pressed on, then turned left on another path, which, if Brodie’s internal compass was correct, was taking them in the direction of the mudflat, but farther from the river—the fifteen-minute walk that Carmen had made to the camp. So they were going to the same place, but the difference was that Carmen was ready to fuck every man in the camp, and Brodie didn’t think Maggie Taylor was ready for that.