and worry about it later. Meanwhile, keep an eye on the right bank. If Mercer’s men discover that Senor Kyle is missing and they see that one of their boats on the mudflat is gone and the other boats are disabled, they might be bright enough to figure out we’re on the river with their boss.”
“They’ll probably think we went downstream, toward Kavak—not farther into the interior.”
“Hope so. Also keep an eye out for Pemón in boats or Pemón on the riverbank with rifles—or blowguns, or whatever.” He added, “We’re not in Quantico anymore, Maggie.”
She thanked him for his perceptive observation and added, “If the gas runs out, we’ll have to paddle.”
Brodie nodded and looked again at Mercer. He was like the trophy fish you caught—the two-hundred-pound prize that was too big for your small boat.
“Try Worley again,” she suggested.
Brodie cut the engine and called Worley’s number. This time the call was picked up, but no one answered. Brodie said, “It’s me, Brendan. Don’t hang up.”
Silence. Then Worley said, “Are you…?”
“We are free. Captain Mercer is not.”
“Okay… are you saying—?”
“We busted out. Ms. Taylor and I are in a boat on a river called River. We have the fugitive with us, restrained and ready for pickup.”
Worley didn’t seem as excited as he should be, and asked, “How did you do that?”
It occurred to Brodie that Worley—who lived in a world of suspicion and deception—might believe that this call was being made under duress, like with a gun pointed to Brodie’s head. If they’d established a code word, Brodie would have used it. Instead, he said, “The CID always gets their man, Colonel. What we need from you is your flying Otter.”
“All right… Where are you?”
“Hold on.” Brodie pulled up the phone’s menu, retrieved the GPS coordinates, and read them to Worley. He added, “We did an aerial recon on the way in, and spotted a landing strip somewhere farther up the river—maybe a mile from the western bank.”
“Okay… hold.”
Brodie assumed Worley was at the embassy, not day drinking at the beach club, and he was now pulling up satellite imagery of the area.
Brodie looked at Taylor, who had moved from the bow and was sitting on the narrow bench next to Mercer’s feet. She asked, “What’s happening?”
“I’m booking a flight.” He covered the mouthpiece and added, “Worley may not believe our good luck and may think Mercer is laying a trap for him.”
“Great. What the hell else can go wrong?”
“Earthquake?”
She glanced at Mercer. “Maybe we can get him to say something.”
“If Worley’s not believing me, he’s certainly not going to believe Kyle Mercer. But… why don’t you punch him in the balls so Worley can hear him groaning?”
“Scott—”
“Hold on—”
Worley said, “All right, I see the airstrip. Probably made by drug runners. Hopefully not active. It’s about seven miles from where you are, as the crow flies. But if you follow the river, I’ll give you the coordinates for a place where you can come ashore and hike into the woods, about two miles to that airstrip.”
“Okay. How long will it take the Otter to get to the airstrip?”
“About three hours from the time I get him wheels-up.” He added, “The Otter doesn’t actually have retractable wheels. That’s just an inside joke.” He paused. “That means you’ll be waiting forever.”
“That’s really not that funny, Colonel.”
“Just a joke. All right, how long do you think it will take you to reach the airstrip?”
Brodie did some math and replied, “It’ll take us about an hour to go seven miles upriver, then… maybe two hours to trek two miles through the jungle to reach the airstrip with our prisoner in tow.”
“Then this should work out for a rendezvous in about three hours, give or take.”
“Right. I need the pilot’s sat phone number. Now.”
“He will have your number. He will call you.”
“Didn’t we have this conversation once?”
“I believe we did. The security considerations haven’t changed since then.”
Brodie didn’t want to antagonize the man who was going to get them out of there, so he said, “All right. We’ll wait for the pilot’s call.”
“If you think there’s any danger for the pilot to land, or if you are under duress, use the code word… ‘asshole.’ Can you work that naturally into a phone conversation?”
“If I’m talking to you, no problem. Just kidding. You know that Taylor and I were under duress when we called you ‘asshole.’ Right?”
“I assumed you were. All right, I’m going to give you the coordinates of the point in the river where